


Lingering Scars

by keep_me_company



Category: Underfell - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Genderless Frisk, Gore, Graphic Violence, Other, Reader Is Frisk, Scarfell AU, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:56:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_company/pseuds/keep_me_company
Summary: You find yourself in the Underground after a failed attempt to escape the world above and discover a dark realm full of monsters, all of which are trying to kill you and take your soul to the king. The seventh and last soul, that is. How will you survive in this hellish world? Or will you even survive long enough to see the surface again?





	1. Chapter 1

“Run faster!”

You pant and gasp for breath, sprinting down the hallway, one hand holding the golden flower against your chest and the other reaching out for the door just several feet away. We’re almost there! you think with overwhelming joy. We’re almost free! Tears leap up to your eyes and they fall as an excited grin stretches across your lips.

“Watch out!”

Your companion warns you too late. The smile on your lips fades, only to be replaced by an expression of shock and agony, a scream tearing from your throat as flames incinerate your being. Everything’s on fire, the heat searing through your skin and bones, reducing your body to nothing but ashes.

Then, everything goes black.

 

A sharp flash of pain wakes you up abruptly, a gasp leaving your lips and your hand latching onto the side of your neck, trying to locate the source of the pain. There’s something there, but you can’t tell exactly what it is. It feels like a scabbed-over cut.

With start, you pat yourself down, examining your clothes, your skin, your hands. Nothing. There's nothing there. No burned and blistering skin. No blood. No nothing. But you swear you felt it. The heat from the flames. The burning sensation and the pain. Flowey screaming in agony as he was reduced to ashes along with you. You know Toriel killed you. You shouldn’t even be alive. And yet, here you are. You glance around and realize you’re right next to Toriel’s house, where that strange golden star hovers above a pile of dead leaves.

You remember this place. You walked through here and touched the star before you went into Toriel’s house last time. It made you feel funny when you did. Maybe... Is that what it does? Bring you back to life after you die? You remember Flowey--

Wait. Where's Flowey?!

You whip your head around, frantically searching for the golden flower. Where could he be?! Your heart pounds in your chest, thundering against your ribcage, and your throat tightens in panic. Did he die? Are you the only one who survived? Why do you remember dying so vividly? You always thought rebirth would mean forgetting your past life. Maybe this sort of rebirth isn't the case. Maybe it only works for you. Which means... Your heart grows heavy and hollow, weighed down by guilt and regret. It took all you had to not break down crying.

Without warning, the ground near your knees breaks apart and a familiar little flower pops out of the ground. His leaves curling outward as his golden head bursts through the earth, shaking off the dirt resting on his petals and leaves.

“Flowey!” you cry, throwing yourself at him, your arms wrapping him into a gentle yet tight embrace. Your abrupt actions make him stiffen from surprise and fright. He almost pushes you away, thinking it's Toriel or a monster trying to attack him, but something stops him.

Hot droplets of saltwater drip down onto his head, making him look up at you, shocked and puzzled. His expression twists with concern, his dark eyes growing darker with sorrow and fear, almost as if he doesn't know what's gotten you so upset and fearing he's the cause of it all.

“I-I couldn't find you a-and you go scared that-that you...” Your chest closes up, making you gasp for breath as sobs rack your body, your shoulders shaking as you cry. “I just--I couldn't--” You start cry even harder as your mind conjures up what if's. What if Flowey had actually died? What if he never came back? What if--

“Shhh, it's alright. I'm okay now...” Flowey says, petting your hair with his leaf that acts as his arm. “Don't cry anymore. It's alright.” He hugs you back as best as he can with his small size. You can almost feel his tiny heart breaking from your tears as he tries his best to comfort you. He wipes away the trails of saltwater coursing down your chin with his leaves and starts to shed his own waterworks, unable to bear the thought of you being hurt so terribly and unable to withhold his own tears.

“I’m sorry...” you mutter, placing him back onto the ground, your arms falling into your lap numbly. The guilt is eating you up from the inside and the emotional agony claws at your heart, squeezing it painfully. You struggle not to let anymore tears fall from your dark eyes.

“For-for what?” Flowey inquires as he wipes away all evidence of his tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We just... weren’t fast enough last time. But-but don’t worry!” He grins brightly, hiding his own depression. “We’ll make it this time! I know it!”

Using your sweater’s sleeves to dry your face and smile weakly. He tries so hard to stay strong for you, but you fear it won't be enough. If you keep coming back to life after every death and remembering it all every time... you're afraid you might just... snap from the pressure and the desperation. Although his efforts fail to get you to smile even a little, it still manages to give you a small flame of hope in your heart. Hope that you can get him out of here. That you can save him from this awful place. Someone like him is too good for a place like this, you think sadly. Maybe if Flowey's with me through out this whole ordeal... it might not be so bad...

“Yeah...” you softly agree. “Let’s go.”

You pick him up gently as you get up, brushing off the grass on your clothes. You head up to the door, vividly remembering walking through here the first time. Your hand reaches out to grab the knob, but you hesitate just as your fingertips are about to touch the cold metal. Your mind goes back to when you first woke up, finally regarding the forgotten question as to how you’re even alive right now. Of how you’re back here, in the same place where you started last time.

“What’s wrong?” Flowey inquires, frowning in confusion as he looks up at you, wondering what’s holding you back.

“I...” your voice fades. Your hands start to quiver as your mind reflects on the previous life you had, albeit a short one. “Did we... come back to... life...? Or... is this just... a dream...?” you ask no one in particular, your eyes staring at the door, then at your hand. “A very... real... dream...?” You flex your hand, as if not believing it’s your arm--as if none of it’s real--and trying to make sense of all this. Is this truly just a dream? Or did you actually come back to life somehow? How does this all work? Sure, you can feel everything you touch and you're still breathing, but...

“You... did...” he starts, avoiding your gaze, turning to the floor instead, his words catching your attention. “Those stars... They’re save points, so that you don’t lose progress and start all the way from the beginning. However... we’re the only ones who remember what happened before the resets.”

“‘Resets’?” you echo, a baffled expression twisting your features. “Is that what you call... this?” You don’t have to gesture to anything for him to know what you mean.

He nods silently. “It’ll keep resetting. Again and again until you either go back home, or...” He stares at the ground. Clearly something’s bothering him.

“Or what?” you prod, wanting to know if you can find out about whatever he’s hiding.

He shakes his head, then smiles. “It’s nothing, really. We should keep moving.”

You frown, but don’t question it. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. But, if something’s really bothering him, he shouldn’t keep it to himself for too long. Bottling up emotions isn’t healthy, after all. Hopefully he’ll open up sooner or later. But what really bothers you is the fact that Flowey remembers your deaths. It makes you feel worse. Nauseous, even. You can only imagine what it feels like to see your only friend in the world die, leaving you all alone until it all resets at the last "save point," as he called it, only for it to happen again once they die all over again. It's... horrifying. No wonder he reacted that way when you hugged him earlier.

You shake your head, dispelling the thought. You finally enter the house, exhaling shakily. Maybe... maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time, we can get past Toriel and avoid dying. Again.

 

Once more, you ask how you can leave the ruins, to get out of this place.

And, yet again, Toriel refuses, over and over, until she finally resolves in destroying the door to the outside so that no one can ever leave the ruins again. It's at the door to the outside that she challenges you to a fight, still too stubborn to let you leave and overwhelmed with raw sorrow and frustrations from the memories flowing through her head. She remembered how they all refused to stay, wanting to know what’s beyond the door.

And, every time, she’d refused.

Unfortunately, most of them had gotten away and passed through the door into the rest of the Underground, only to perish by the hands of another and become another key to opening the barrier and freeing monsterkind. It pained her greatly every time, never knowing if they'd ever come back and visit, never knowing how they died... And, after the first few, she resolved to kill them herself. To give them a quick and relatively... painless... demise.

The truth was, she would have rather had them die by her own hands than by those of another. It was especially true for someone like you, who can’t bear to hold a grudge against these suffering monsters. She just wanted to have some company. To have someone other than herself living in this lonely, isolated house in the ruins. To be able to joke around and laugh with another person, no matter their race or gender. She just wanted to be happy again. She didn't want to be alone any longer.

Once more, she challenges you to a fight, hoping that maybe you’ll change your mind. That you won’t chase those foolish ideals of escaping the ruins. That maybe... just maybe... she can have a family again.

Regrettably enough, that's not your goal. You want to escape this place. To be free and leave this place behind. You don’t want to be here, in an underground world full of monsters ready to tear you apart piece by piece. You just want to see the sun again. To feel the warm rays of sunlight cascade down upon you and warm you up at its gentle touch. You wanted to gaze up at the night sky and see all the stars in the universe, pointing out all the constellations you could see... Just like you used to with your father. It still makes your heart ache when you reminiscence such sweet memories. It’s what keeps you going. It’s what fills you with the determination to go on.

“Toriel, please!” you plead, holding Flowey tightly against your chest. “I don’t want to fight you!”

“NO!” she bellows, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I won't have you be like the others! I won’t let you go! Not now, not ever! I don’t want to lose you, too!”

Her words make you pause. There’s so much regret, so much desperation, behind her words. Though she never showed it to you before, her heart is open to you now. You can see the agony she’s felt, losing others so quickly and having them die by the hands of another. Never knowing what happened to them until the monsters all cried in unison, “Another soul! Another soul has been collected for the king!”

You could see it in her eyes, too. They reflected the same melancholy you feel. The despondency in her crimson orbs is difficult to ignore, the guilt and depression from all the losses she’s gone through finally welling up within her heart and eyes, spilling through in the form of hot tears. It was all too much for her to bear, to lose another person she cared about just like that. And it hurt you, too. It broke your heart to see her like this, so downtrodden and helpless.

You hesitate. Is going out there truly the right choice? Before you is a broken monster, both in heart and mind. Leaving her would only worsen the scars she already has. And you didn’t want that. You never wanted to hurt anyone like this. And yet, do you have much of a choice in this matter?

It shattered your own heart to see someone go through something like this, to feel this devastating agony. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to feel freedom again so badly, and yet, you couldn’t just abandon Toriel like this. What could you do now? Why does everything you do cause a dilemma like this? To either satisfy your own needs and desires, only to destroy another's joy, or bring someone else happiness at the cost of your own? What kind of cruel fate allows to happen?

“Look out!”

It's too late. Again.

You throw Flowey out of the way in time, just as a sphere of fire envelops the right side of your torso, searing through your body in seconds. Your soul shatters.

 

You wake up again with a gasp, back in the same place. You still can't get used to this. To waking up again after dying like that. It still made you panic and check yourself for any evidence of the force that caused your untimely demise. You sigh and glance around. Flowey’s at your side this time, to your relief. You register the stinging pain across your left hip, the feeling catching your attention almost instantly. Is it the same thing as what's on your neck? You reach up to touch the scabbed-over cut on the right side of your neck, frowning as you wonder why it hadn't healed yet. You lift up your sweater to see a dark red line, about two inches long, stretching across your skin, scabbed over but bordered by an angry-red color, as if irritated or infected. It didn’t really hurt that much, unless if someone placed enough pressure on it. You traced a finger down the rough exterior and marvelled at the feeling. It felt just like any other scab and hurt just like any other cut. But... what did these mean?

Flowey watches you, wondering why your wounds haven’t healed, a frown on his face. He can see the one on your neck, then peers over to the one on your hip. It mirrors the second cut, appearing infected and yet, it's not. His expression twists into one of confusion from the observation. Did something go wrong with the reset? Or are these injuries somehow related to your death...?

You pull your black-and-white sweater back down and turn to Flowey, who seems lost in thought. “Hey, Flowey?” you inquire, your voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Y-yes?” he stutters, surprised. “What is it?”

“You were lost in your thoughts."

"Oh."

You hesitate at your next question, wondering how Flowey might react with this inquiry. You take a deep breath before starting again. "Flowey?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we... I.. I mean..." You pause, at loss for words as you attempt to ask your question. "W-would it be possible to... I... I don't know... h-help Toriel... i-in some way...?"

Flowey stares at you as if you’ve just lost your mind. “You want to help someone who's killed you twice already? Are you insane?”

You glance away, a guilty and hurt look on your face, and subconsciously play with the grass at your feet. "I... um... It just... She seems so l-lost... so... so lonely... like--like me..." A pause. "I... I-I thought I could... change her mind...? M-make her... happy again...?" Your statements sound more like questions, as if you doubt your own judgement. It makes you sound so... lost. Your voice trails off at the end, nearly inaudible to the golden flower.

He lets out a sigh and explains, in a matter-of-fact tone, “She’s killed the other children hundreds of times, even though she doesn't remember it. She won’t take pity on you and you know that. She’ll just end your life over and over and over again. It just... isn’t possible... to make her change her mind.” His voice is devoid of hope. A polar opposite to his usual bubbliness. He bows his head, body slumping in defeat and sorrow. "It just... isn't possible..." he adds quietly, almost as if to reassure himself. It's almost as if he doubts his own words just as much as you do yours.

“Y-you... you just... don’t want me to... die a-again... right...?” you question. Your inquiry hits dead-on, making Flowey freeze up.

He relaxes in defeat, his head bowing lower in shame. “Y-yeah...” His stature’s hunched over, guilty of his selfish thoughts. He only wants what’s best for you, after all. He's seen so many die already and he doesn’t want you to end up like them, especially someone as kind-hearted, patient and understanding as you. He's sick of all this constant killing and resetting. All he wants is for you to be free of this place, to be free of the monsters that want to kill you so much. He just... can't take it anymore.

“I... I understand,” you tell him, offering him a gentle and forgiving smile, reassuring him that you're not angry at him. “I’d do the same if I were you.”

His head swerves in your direction, a disbelieving expression on his face. It takes a few moments... then, a small smile breaks out across his lips, relief and contentment sparkling in his eyes as he gazes at the ground. "Th-thank you..." His voice is barely audible when he speaks but you catch it regardless, your own grin brightening as your heart grows a little bit lighter.

"You're welcome," you reply just as softly. Then, your smile fades and you frown lightly, remembering the problem at hand. “But first, we need to figure out a way to get past Toriel,” you tell him. “We just have to keep on trying until we finally reach that door. Then, we'll worry about what's behind. After all, we can’t give up now, after all we've gone through, right?” Your grin returns, hiding your anxiety. You don't even know if you'll be able to make it past Toriel. Hell, you don't even think you'll ever be able to, but you're not giving up. You can't give up. Not yet, at least. You have to keep going. For Flowey. That's all that matters now.

He nods excitedly, yet a nervous smile plays across his lips. Although his enthusiasm has returned, you know that he knows these next few days aren't going to be easy. “Let’s get going, then!” he exclaims, his enthusiastic response earning a cheery laugh from you. He wraps himself around your offered hand and you transfer him to your shoulder, where he usually stays when you take him with you, other than holding him against your chest when you run from danger, of course. You glance at him for a moment, a soft grin gracing your lips, before turning back to the door before you.

This time... you tell yourself, more determined than ever. This time we’ll make it. I promise you, Flowey. I’ll get you out of here... even if it’s the last thing I do. I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

You just barely dodge a fireball thrown in your direction, leaning sharply to the left to avoid the attack and stumbling away from another following right behind the first. Not a moment too soon, another brushes past your left arm, burning you a little from the intense heat it emits.

“Toriel, please! Stop this!” you shout, trying to get her to listen. Four more pass you by, one of them nearly catching you in the face. “This isn’t helping you! It’s only hurting both of us! Please, stop!”

A sphere of fire misses you by a hair’s breadth, its flames searing your arm, lowering your health by a few more points. Your skin stings with white-hot pain and you clutch at the burns covering your right upper arm, grimacing from the pain. Your sweater bears terrible holes in it, revealing a black tank top and reddened skin underneath. Your legs aren’t much different from the rest of you, speckled with blistering skin and bright red spots. Some parts have begun to bleed from the damages done to you. The pain slows you down, but you refuse to give up.

“Toriel, listen to me, please!” Your voice reaches deaf ears.

In return, she hurls another fireball at you. This one hits you in the leg before you can leap out of the way in time. You scream in anguish as flames wrap around your left leg, eating away at the limb. Your body collapses to the ground, quite a few blisters bursting upon contact, making you scream through your teeth as tears trickle down your face. You glance over to your leg and gasp in horror. It’s nearly completely burned off, your skin blackened and bleeding profusely. White peeks through the crimson and black flesh. You realize with a start that you can see your bones. Your bones. The sight makes you empty your stomach contents on the floor beside you, coughing and sputtering as you struggle to breathe, your heart in your throat. Is this how you’ll die? Another failed attempt at trying to get Toriel to understand? How many times have you perished trying to convince Toriel to let you go? How many times have you been reduced to nothing more than ashes? How many more times will you be able to take on this endless torture? How much longer will you last before you finally snap?

You struggle to see through the tears, blinking feverishly to clear your vision as you turn your attention to Toriel. Your eyes widen when you see her summoning up another ball of fire, the flames lighting up her figure, reflecting off of the tears streaming down her face. You can see the anguish and conflict behind her eyes. She doesn’t want to do this, you realize with a start. She doesn’t want to kill you. A gentle smile hovers over your lips, your eyes locking with hers and your heart bearing no hatred. You give her one last smile before she hurls the fireball in your direction. You don’t even have time to scream as the fireball collides with your chest. Your bright red soul shatters into pieces.

Darkness overwhelms your vision. The last thing you hear before you reset again is the sound of Flowey screaming out his little heart in horror and Toriel whispering an almost inaudible, “I’m sorry, my child.” Her voice is full of sorrow, almost as if she’s about to cry.

Then, nothing.

 

Your eyes open to the familiar sight of the cavern ceiling. You’re back at the front yard of Toriel’s house. How many times have you woken up to this view? How many times have you died, only to come back to this save point? You’ve memorized the ceiling down to every nook and cranny from the amount of times you've perished at the hands of Toriel. How many more hits will you take before your heart finally gives into hatred and vengeance?

Your mind goes back to your most recent death. You close your eyes, seeing those last several moments as clearly as if you were still there, about to die again. Your eyes watch Toriel as she throws that final attack at you, ending your life. However, this time, you notice something. When she gave that last blow, she was shaking and sobbing. She had closed her eyes the moment she released the sphere of flames from her hand, unable to watch another one of her children perish by her own hands. Then, as you lost consciousness, you heard--behind Flowey’s horrified screams and through the haze overwhelming your fading conscience--the faint thump of someone collapsing to their knees and soft hiccups and sobs fill the air, muffled by the darkness closing in on you. Finally, you hear her murmur, “I’m sorry,” and you reset once more.

You reopen your eyes, silent droplets of hot salt water trickling down your temples and into your hair, as you realize just how agonizingly difficult your demise was for Toriel. Your breath hitches and your chest heaves as your own sorrows catch up with you. Once the first few tears spill, the rest follows in an unbroken stream, your body jerking and curling in on itself as you struggle not to cry. You turn away from Flowey, your shaking shoulders and arched back facing him as you finally release the pent-up emotions into the grass beneath your head, your hot tears soaking the dirt beneath it all. Pitiful whines leave your lips as you tremble and fight against the building need to scream out your anguish and let the entire world know of your torment.

Something--or someone--rubs your back comfortingly, their touch gentle and soothing. You turn around to see Flowey standing next to you, a dejected look on his sweet face, but also one of concern. He’s worried about you. It's so unnatural to see him so sad... so... broken. It breaks your heart to see him like this.

“I... I'm sorry,” he whispers, glancing away. “We... didn't make it.”

You don't answer. You simply stare at the wall, your mind wandering back to Toriel. She's so happy when she first meets you, but becomes so desperate and broken and aggressive the moment you threaten to leave the sanctuary of her home. You feel terrible for trying to leave Toriel behind like that. But... you have no choice. If you are to progress, you must get to the door. That’s the only way you can get out of this place and into the rest of the Underground.

But... at the same time... you don’t want to hurt Toriel like this. Your hands tighten into fists as frustration flows through your veins. You don’t want to leave her behind without something for her to hold on to. You want to give her some sort of hope for her to believe in, even if it seems impossible. You just want to punch the wall so bad that your knuckles split open and bleed. This anger... You know you can’t let it control you. But, sometimes, it just... overwhelms you and you can’t control it anymore. You just... snap... Just like that.

You sigh and ponder over all the options you have thus far. In the end, it’s going to hurt, no matter what you do, but... you hope it won’t be for nothing. If you can save Toriel from her loneliness, it would be enough. For all of you. You just hope it’ll all work out in the end. You get up abruptly, snatching Flowey from the ground without a word, briskly striding toward the door. You wipe away the wet trails down your face with your black-and-white sweater and hold Flowey close, almost afraid to let go of him, as if he’ll slip away from you if you loosen your grip too much.

“H-hey!” he protests. “Wh-what’re you--” He takes one glance at your face and falls silent. He sees the determination--despite the tear stains you strive so hard to hide--in your poker-faced expression and knows that you're up to something. He doesn’t protest at your unusually tight hold, either.

Silently, you enter the house and walk into the living room. Just like all the other times, Toriel greets you warmly and gives you a piece of pie for dinner before leading you to your new room.

You offer her a strained smile, trying so hard not to crack under the pressure. She doesn’t see the pain behind your expression and returns a small grin of her own. She looks so sweet, so innocent, smiling at you so warmly. It makes your heart crack a little knowing how this’ll all end. She’ll be heartbroken, for sure. And it pains you greatly to have to do this to someone so sweet and motherly. Someone who just wants to be happy again.

If you had been here under different circumstances, you would’ve been more than happy to have her as your surrogate mother, despite all that she’s done to you. You just can’t hold a grudge against her, no matter how hard you try.

I have to do this, you tell yourself. For Flowey. For the other monsters. If I stay here, I won't accomplish anything. If I go, however... there’s a large chance I’ll never come back to Toriel...

You weigh both sides as you lay on the bed, your shoes kicked off and laying wherever they landed. Your hands are behind your head, woven together into a makeshift pillow. You stare at the ceiling, debating whether or not this will be the best thing to do at this point. Could you truly go through with this? Hurt Toriel like this?

“H-hey...” Flowey starts awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hum in response.

“What... wh-what’re you planning?” he asks.

You remain silent, debating whether or not to tell the golden flower. A conclusion is made after several long moments. “You’ll... you’ll see,” you hesitantly reply. Of course you want to tell him, but, this time, it’s for the best that he doesn’t know. He’ll only try to convince you otherwise.

He tries to protest, to get more information about this “plan” of yours, but every attempt is met with silence.

Finally, you tell him, “It’s best that you don’t know. You won’t like it regardless.”

He frowns, then sighs in defeat after a few seconds. He gives up, realizing that you aren’t willing to talk about it. The part of “you won’t like it” starts to unnerve him, making him wonder what sort of crazy idea you’re willing to go through to get past Toriel.

Eventually, he drifts off to sleep, worn out both mentally and physically from the battles and resets you both have had to go through. Considering how many times you died and how many times he either had to watch you die--to his greatest horror--or perish along with you, you weren’t surprised that he fell asleep so easily. It wouldn’t shock you if he had nightmares, too.

Seeing as there was very little chance of you getting any rest--taking note of how many times you’ve had to die by Toriel’s hands--you knew that now would be as good as any time to smooth out your plan, cover any plot holes or unexpected events that could happen while you carry out your plan of action. With that, you spend the rest of the night planning for tomorrow evening, when your plan will finally come together, your mind still recovering from the abrupt resets and replaying your numerous deaths over and over in your mind’s eye. You know that you won’t be able to sleep peacefully anymore after all of this is over.

If it ever ends... that is...

As long as no more monsters get to suffer, you’ll be fine with your nightmares, no matter how horrifying they can get. As long as Flowey’s safe... you’ve got nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. He’s all you have left now... and you’ll do anything to keep him safe.

 

The next morning, you awaken to the smell of butterscotch-cinnamon pie. You’re mystified as to how you actually managed to fall asleep, despite how many nightmares kept you up. Near the bed, there’s a piece of Toriel’s delicious pie, the sweet aroma wafting through the room and waking up Flowey, who seemed to be in a pretty distressing dream at the moment. His eyes flutter open and he sighs in relief when he sees you staring at him, wondering what sort of dream he had. Judging by his reactions, it wasn’t a good one.

“Is that... pie?” he questions, eyeing the dessert suspiciously.

Oh, right. You never stayed long enough in Toriel’s house to sleep over and you only ever received pie twice from the total amount of times you’ve attempted to escape. Well... three times as of right now.

You grab the plate of pie and the fork, cutting the dessert in half and holding out the plate to Flowey, allowing him to choose first. He stares at the pie, then at you, a bewildered expression on his face. You nod your head, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

“Are you... are you sure? I-I mean... Can... can I...?” he stutters, nervous and blushing a bright red as he stumbles over his words.

You nod, giggling at his embarrassment. He looks so cute, all flustered like that.

He becomes even redder, if becoming redder than a tomato is even possible. He reaches out his leaves and hesitantly takes the largest of the two pieces, which is closer to three-fifths of the pie rather than a perfect half. His face twists into a sheepish grin, embarrassed of his rather selfish act.

You only laugh and nod, encouraging him rather than reprimanding him for taking the bigger piece, like anyone else would do. You would’ve scolded him in a jokingly manner if you hadn’t been so worried he’d take it the wrong way. You didn’t mind him taking the large piece. You weren’t very hungry anyway.

After the small meal, you take Flowey and head over to the living room, where Toriel sits in her rocking chair, reading a book. Just like every other time, she asks if you’d like to hear about the book she’s reading. Unlike the times before, where you’d instantly inquire as to how to leave the ruins, you agree instead, sitting down in front of the fire, facing her while holding Flowey against you.

Flowey glances up at you with a questioning gaze, wondering what you’re up to. He knows something’s up. After all, he remembers the previous resets as clearly as you. At least... most of them. There have been too many for you to count and you can’t remember half of them anyway. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Toriel brightens at your words and excitedly tells you about all the stories she’s read, even reciting some of the parts of books word by word from the numerous amount of times she’s read them. The two of you start to exchange a few jokes here and there. She tells you she’s always wanted to be a teacher and you tell her that that would be a wonderful job for her. The smile adorning her features widens and her eyes well up with happy tears. She thanks you for your compliments, blushing a little at how you describe just how great of a teacher she would be.

“My child, I’m so grateful to have you here with me,” she says. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Thank you.”

You smile, hiding the tears that long to spill from your eyes and conceal the painful effects of your cracking heart. You don’t know whether to be relieved or saddened by the fact that Toriel can’t see your inner suffering. Would things be different if she could read you as well as you could her? you wonder silently. You honestly didn’t know.

Eventually, Toriel gets up to make some pie, telling you she will return shortly. She disappears into the kitchen, the joyful grin on her face never fading.

However, yours does.

It’ll only be a few more hours before you carry out your plan. Before you break Toriel’s fragile heart... again. Just a couple more hours until you make it to Snowdin, the name of the town behind the looming door at the end of the basement hallway that Toriel mentioned every time you tried to exit the ruins. The place she didn’t want you to go to for reason she didn’t explain.

It didn’t take long before Toriel returned with two plates of pie. She offers you one and places the other in front of you for Flowey, who hesitantly digs in. You smile and thank her, your politeness making her stop for a moment and stare. She quickly shakes her head and replies with a soft, “You’re welcome, my child,” before disappearing into the kitchen once more to grab her own slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, only to return to her rocking chair.

The three of you eat in comfortable silence, enjoying one another’s company. Although, Flowey’s a bit more hesitant. He doesn’t seem to trust the goat monster very much, especially after all that’s happened.

Meanwhile, you fight against the urge to cry, your efforts growing weaker every time you look up at Toriel. So, you stare at the hardwood floor instead, watching Flowey eat his pie from the corner of your eye. You don’t know what’s worse: keeping secrets from the one you consider a mother and Flowey, or hiding your pain from everyone around you, even the ones you truly care about. I guess either one’s just as bad as the other, you think.

You know this can’t go on like this, so you finish up your slice of pie just as Flowey devours the rest of his and take both his plate and yours while holding Flowey with one hand. You thank Toriel for the meal and tell her you’re tired, so you put the dishes in the sink and scurry back to your temporary room. You don’t even notice the strange look Toriel gives you as you rush by.

Placing Flowey on the table, you decide that letting him stay like that might hurt his roots, so you grab a spare boot you discover in the closet and fill it with dirt from the plant on the windowsill. You place Flowey in the boot. Oddly enough, he doesn’t protest.

Then, you collapse backwards onto the bed and gently trace the numerous scabbed scars on your skin. You’ve figured out a while back--after maybe your fourth demise--that each of these cuts represent how many times you’ve died. The scars are all the same in both appearance and length. They never heal either, almost like they’re a constant reminder of your who-knows-how-many deaths. You start counting them, a habit of which you’ve recently developed.

Eight on your right arm alone, from your palm to the top of your shoulder. On your other arm, six. On your legs, which your dark gray shorts fail to cover, are six cuts on one leg and seven on the other. On your torso, both front and back are... well... more cuts. You can’t exactly count them since, well, one) it would be awkward to do so, and two) you don’t have a mirror to use to see all the ones on your back. There are a few on your face and neck, too. One of them stretches across your left eyebrow, starting at your hairline and ending just past your brow bone. The other one cuts across the left side of your neck, right under your jawline.

You sigh, your eyes growing dull as you finally realize just how many times you’ve died so far. Depression weighs down your heart, making it harder to hold back your tears. All you’ve ever wanted was peace. And now... now you don’t know what to do. You wanted to leave this cruel world behind, but you ended up in another that isn’t any better. And hurts. It hurts to know that the world is working against you, refusing you your eternal peace that you've wanted so badly for years. Sure, you have Flowey to take care of now and Toriel to coax out of her loneliness, but what about you?

You don’t know anymore.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Hell, you don’t even know where to go half the time. You know it’s a world of bloodthirsty monsters down here, but you don’t know whether you’re even alive most of the time. Or is this all just a dream?

You shake your head. This can’t be a dream. You’ve perished too many times for it to even be close to a dream. It’s not exactly a nightmare, either. It can’t be fake, considering all the things you’ve done and the creatures you’ve met, both here and earlier in the ruins.

Your eyes start to close. Maybe... maybe this time... it’ll work. And Flowey will be free... and Toriel released from her constant isolation. That’s all that matters anymore.

If your sacrifice can save another...

...no matter how long it takes...

...no matter how painful it can get...

...so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and if anyone has ideas for naming this AU, please let me know! It'll help me a lot. Let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions. Thanks! :)


	3. Chapter 3

That night, you scoop up Flowey from where he sleeps, the movement waking him.

“Hey--”

“Shh!” you shush him quietly, a finger to your lips.

You open the door to the hallway and glance around, trying to see whether or not Toriel was awakened by Flowey’s voice. Thankfully, she hasn’t stirred. Yet. You tiptoe toward the stairs, carefully making your way down them as silently as possible.

Of course, the last one has to creak loudly.

Fear shoots through you and adrenaline courses through your veins. Acting out of instinct, you sprint down the hallway toward the door at the end of the winding corridor. You can hear Toriel rushing down the staircase after you, shouting furiously and sending a few fireballs at you. The bends in the hallway save you from having to dodge the attacks.

Unfortunately, the corridor leading straight toward the door leaves you completely open. You’re halfway there when you sense something behind you. Without thinking, you leap to the side and a blazing sphere of flames shoots past you. After having to dodge so many of Toriel’s attacks before, you’ve developed a sort of sixth sense for it.

Once you reach the door, you dance away as a fireball collides with the door, hitting the place you were only seconds before. You place Flowey on the ground and tell him to stay there and not interfere.

“H-hey! What?! Are you crazy! You’re going to die! _Again!_ ” he yells, greatly agitated.

“Don’t worry, Flowey,” you tell him gently. “It won’t happen this time. I promise.”

With that, you leave a protesting Flowey behind, moving to stand in front of the door. You stand there silently, your face expressionless as you twist sideways to avoid two fireballs, just barely slipping in between both. You wait until Toriel’s close enough, then--

Toriel gasps and takes a step back, her body going rigid as she falters. Her eyes widen and she stares down at you, hands out at her sides in alarm.

Your shoulders shake and tears stream down your face. “I... I’m sorry,” you tell her, burying your face into her chest. Your arms tighten their grip around her waist and you feel her hesitantly return the embrace, her own arms snaking around your smaller form. She goes down onto her knees, pulling you down with her and shifting you so that your head’s pressed into her left shoulder instead and your arms around her neck. She rests her chin on your shoulder and you can feel her break down. Fat droplets of hot water soak into your sweater as the both of you release your pent-up sorrows, hers continuing long after you’ve shed your tears.

Eventually, you let go, sitting back on your heels with your hands braced against your knees. You stare at the floor, feeling better, but still saddened by the fact that you have to leave Toriel behind. Your hands tighten into fists as you struggle not to shed anymore tears. You have to be strong. For Flowey. For Toriel.

“My child,” she begins, “please, look at me.”

You refuse. You can’t bear to meet her gaze after all that’s happened. You see her as your mother, the mother you’ve always wanted. And now... you’re about to lose her, too. It’s more than you can bear at this point. You close your eyes, a few more tears slipping past your eyelids. I’m sorry...

“Child...?” she hesitantly asks, her voice soft and full of worry. When you don’t respond, she tilts your head up gently, your dark eyes finally meeting her red-tinted ones. “Are you alright?”

Your face twists in emotional pain and you grab a hold of her arm, almost as if trying to comfort yourself with her presence. As if you’re proving to yourself that she’s still there and you’re still here, in the Underground, and not... up there...

Your grip on her sleeve tightens as past memories flitter through your mind, too quickly for you to make out anything, but strong enough to remind you of what happened in those moments. You feel warm droplets of water stream down your cheeks, the first ones at a slow trickle, then thousands follow, forming a river of silent emotion.

“My child...” she starts again. “I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you, but... I just... don’t want you to leave this place. You’ll be safe here. I promise. Out there... Out there, you’ll just... die. Just like... just like the others.” Her eyes drop to the floor in shame, guilt and sorrow. She knows it was selfish of herself to try to keep you here, but she knows that she can’t stop you any longer.

“I know...” you whisper. “I know...” Your words bring her attention back to your face. You can tell she’s trying to read your face from the way her gaze burns into your lowered eyes.

“Then, why do still wish to go out there?”

“I... I want to save them... like I saved you...” A pause. A sob racks your body. “I just... want you to be happy...” Your voice cracks. Another sob. “...even when I’m gone. I-I promise I’ll visit! J-just... just please... let me go.” “I...” She hesitates, pondering over her options as you quietly sob before her, gritting your teeth in frustration as you try so hard to make it stop. But you can’t. Once you start crying, it doesn’t cease so easily.

“I know now that this place... makes you unhappy. I... I’m sorry for forcing you to stay here like this.” She drops her head in shame.

“N-no!” you hurriedly cut in, holding onto her hand now, like a child would of its own mother. “I-I like it here! It’s just... I...” You fall silent for a long moment, your hands dropping to your lap, releasing Toriel’s. Taking in a shaky breath, you continue, “I want the other monsters to be happy, too. They’re all lonely and I know they might kill me, but... but they’re still good inside. They just... need some help with letting go of that fear of opening up and... and finally showing some kindness to others. It... it won’t be easy, that’s for sure.” You smile warmly, hope and determination glowing in your dark orbs, despite the desperation in your voice. “But... but I’m sure I can do it! After all... I helped you."

Arms wrap around you and your head is buried back into Toriel’s shoulder. “I understand,” she says. “I won’t stop you.”

You let out a relieved, breathy laugh. “Thank you... mom...” Your eyes close, your smile widening as you gently grip her arms. You feel her stiffen for a moment from the title you gave her, but she relaxes and squeezes you gently before releasing you.

She presses her forehead to yours for a moment. “Thank you, Frisk. For helping me.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze up in surprise. She never calls you by your name. Never. Until now...

What could this mean?

Toriel stands up, turning around to leave, but you grab her sleeve before she walks too far. She pauses and peers down at you with a calm but questioning gaze, much like a mother would.

“Will you...” you begin, almost afraid to ask the question. “Will you promise me something?”

“Yes, child?”

“Will you... will you be there...? When I reach the end, I mean. Flowey told me I have to go somewhere and... and I want to see you one last time before I do.” You remember meeting Flowey for the first time and him telling you all about the journey you’re supposed to go on in order to leave the Underground. “Can you... can you do that...? For me...?” Your weak voice echoes through the deathly-silent corridor.

Several long moments pass.

You bow your head, fearing you’ve asked the wrong question, your hand relinquishing its grasp on the blood-red fabric of your surrogate mother’s robes.

Suddenly, you feel something tug at your sweater and you lift your gaze to see Toriel helping you up to your feet. She smiles gently in your direction. “Of course, my child. Anything for you,” she finally replies. Although, her eyes bear a certain sadness behind them, one that she’s trying so hard not to show. She knows what’s at the end but won’t dare to mention it. The fact that she’s so willing to go to a place that causes her so much agony just for you makes you feel guilty yet relieved.

“Thank you,” you mumble, grinning softly. You share one last hug with her before she finally starts to walk away. Before she completely disappears down the hallway, however, she asks of you one simple request: to visit as soon as you are able. Not being one to reject such a favor, you accept and watch her turn the corner, both of you smiling bittersweetly, never knowing if this will be the last time you’ll ever see each other again. Finally, you turn back to Flowey.

“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” you say as you pick him up, heading toward the large double door before you.

“You didn’t have to scare me like that, you know!” he snaps, his eyes glossing over with gathering tears. He turns away to conceal the small, wet tears slipping down his face. You know that he doesn’t want to appear weak, but you know he can’t help it. It’s not his fault he’s so emotional but, in itself, it isn’t all that bad. It shows he truly cares for you.

“Don’t cry, Flowey,” you tell him. “It’s alright. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Y-yeah... but don’t do that again!”

“Okay, okay. But you know I can’t promise anything.”

“I know...”

With that, you brace one arm against the door on the right and push, slowly opening it. It creaks open and a blast of cold wind and snow hits you, nearly making you stumble backwards from the force of the chilly air. More determined than ever to find out just what lies beyond this door, you force your way through into a world of snow. Trees surround you on both sides, towering high above your head. You gaze up in wonder, amazed at just how tall the trees are. Your attention turns to the path ahead of you. You can see the faint traces of a trail up ahead and what looks like an oddly-placed structure over a bridge crossing a large chasm.

You carefully make your way down the trail, wondering who you’ll meet next. Knowing they’ll most likely kill you, you’d rather not run into them anytime soon. However, you know that that’s not entirely possible.

You step over a branch lying in the middle of the path and glance at it for a few long moments, wondering how it got there and why it would just sit there in the middle of the road without any other branches around. Is it a distraction of sorts? Or a scare tactic made by someone to frighten off anyone who draws near the bridge? It would be difficult to hide after snapping the branch, considering how far it is from the edge of the woods, so it’s not likely someone could easily get away with it without being caught.

Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you keep walking down the trail, shivering as you go. You only have your sweater, a tank top and your shorts on you, which do very little to protect you from this harsh climate. You begin to regret leaving the ruins without asking for a winter jacket first. But, of course, you didn’t know it was this cold here, so it’s your own fault for not asking what sort of climate exists beyond the doors.

You glance back. Well... you can’t exactly go back now, considering the door’s completely shut and mother’s most likely busy with either baking or reading her books. Yes, you call Toriel your mother now, since that’s what she is to you. She didn’t seem to mind when you called her that, either. You’re just glad she didn’t reject you or your decision to see her as your guardian.

You turn back to the front, letting out a sigh and hugging Flowey closer to yourself as you shiver quite violently from the cold. He glances up at you in concern, a small frown on his face. You give him a strained smile, trying to tell him you’re fine.

He gives you a half-hearted glare, obviously seeing through your facade but too kind to actually be angry at you.

You hear the branch snap behind you, as you had assumed it would. You whirl around to see who it is. There’s no one there. Wait... how can that be possible? No one can run back into the trees that quickly!

“Oh no...” Flowey whimpers, cowering in fear as he recognizes this specific scenario. “Frisk. Whatever you do, don’t look back and just run!”

You hesitate a moment, almost afraid to move, lest someone attacks you from behind.

“ _Please_ , Frisk! You’ll die if you don’t!” he says, his tone panicked as he keeps glancing down the path.

Flowey’s frantic tone snaps you out of your stupor and you turn tail to flee down the bridge, but an ominous presence behind you stops you in your tracks. How did they get there so quickly?! Did they teleport?! Their aura screams of danger, and terror courses thickly through your veins. You haven’t felt this terrified since--

“Human,” a deep voice booms, interrupting your thoughts. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

You hesitantly turn around to see a skeleton, nearly as tall as you, in front of you. He’s grinning widely, revealing a single golden tooth among several razor-sharp ones. He has on a black jacket with a fluffy, gray hood and a red shirt underneath it. He’s wearing black shorts with yellow stripes on either side and his feet are covered with red and white shoes. His eyes, however, are the most captivating. His right one is completely black and the left one has a single, glowing, blood-red orb that gleams with hatred, sorrow and anguish.

Another broken soul.

You see him hold out his hand but you notice something’s off about his movements. He’s hesitant. Maybe it’s because you’re staring at him so intently it looks like you can see into his soul. Maybe it’s because you can...

His hand, though welcoming, has something on it. An electric hand buzzer? Is he trying to prank you, or kill you? You know it’s most likely the latter, considering the world you’re in.

You observe him closely. There’s sweat trickling down his skull and he keeps peering over your shoulder, as if awaiting someone’s arrival. No. As if _fearing_ someone’s arrival. But... who’s he so afraid of? And if he’s afraid of them...

You mentally curse as you pale slightly. If _he’s_ afraid of another monster, then that means you’re _screwed_ if you run into them. You’re probably better off with the skeleton than the creature he fears so much.

Knowing that you might not make it through the electric shock of the buzzer, you take a few steps to the side and set Flowey on the snow-covered ground, making sure he isn’t too close to the edge of the chasm or the skeleton. You feel the skeleton’s eyes following you closely in interest, his hand lowering to his side and returning to his jacket pocket.

“H-hey! Wh-what’re you--” Flowey freezes in realization as you smile down at him gently. “N-no! Y-you can’t! He--he’ll kill you!” He desperately grasps at your hands as you start to pull away from him. “N-no! Please! D-don’t--”

“Flowey,” you reply softly yet sternly, cutting him off. Your dark eyes pierce his frightened ones. You feel him shaking from trepidation and fear. He’s afraid of losing you again, you realize as you gaze into his dark orbs. He doesn’t want to see you die again and gain another painful reminder of your demise in the form of a scar. He doesn’t want to see you in pain anymore.

“I-I just--” He tries to explain himself, but you just kiss his forehead in response. He stiffens and stares at you in shock, a light blush forming on his face. “Wh-what--?”

“It’s okay, Flowey. I’ll be fine,” you tell him, oddly relaxed, despite knowing you’ll die. “Besides, these scars aren’t the worst thing that could happen. The worst things would be losing you or Toriel and saving afterwards, never getting the chance to go back and save you before I lose you forever.” Your words bring tears to his eyes and your own eyes glaze over with unshed waterworks at the thought of losing him or your mother. “Be safe, okay?” you whisper to him before getting back up and facing the skeleton. He’s barely moved from his spot.

He smirks and holds out his hand.

You give him a gentle smile and, despite knowing that you’ll die from this exchange, you grasp his hand firmly.

Instantly, a powerful burst of electricity courses through your body and, not even a moment later, your vision begins to fade into darkness. The right side of your face grows cold and yet your chest burns. Blood pours out of your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, everywhere. You can barely hear anything from the intense ringing in your ears. You just barely catch the skeleton chuckle deeply as he towers over your convulsing body.

“Haven’t you been told how everything works around here?” he states more than inquires. He notices that you’re still smiling, even as you’re fading away. It isn’t a normal grin, either. It’s a smile you give someone when you forgive them. There’s no malice, no fear, no hatred in your eyes as they grow increasingly unfocused, dulled.

“In _this_ world, it’s _kill_ or _be killed_.”

Those are the last words you hear before you finally lapse into oblivion.

Not a moment too soon, you open your eyes to a dark ceiling. You were expecting to be back at Toriel’s house, but you guess that passing the doors into the new region counts as a sort of save point. You sit up, shivering and rubbing your arms from the cold. You feel Flowey touch your wrist, tracing the new scar on your left arm. It doesn’t hurt too much, since he doesn’t place a lot of pressure on it, but it does feel a bit raw, considering it’s a recent cut. The others stopped stinging after about ten minutes, so it shouldn’t take too long for this one to do the same, especially in this frigid weather.

You pick up Flowey and walk down the path again. This time, you don’t stop to ponder over the stick, knowing that it won’t change anything this time around. You reach the bridge and the skeleton approaches once more. Now that you think about it, you never got his name, did you? You feel a bit ashamed of yourself. It’s rude not to know someone’s name, but you know he’s probably not going to remember your resets like you and Flowey do. So, you guess there’s really no point in it.

Once the skeleton appears, you start to move to place Flowey a short distance away, but you hesitate, wondering what his reaction would be if you’d politely decline his handshake instead. Would his reaction be any different? Coming to a conclusion, you keep Flowey in your arms and turn back to the skeleton. The small, golden flower stares at you, speculating as to what you could be up to.

The monster in front of you raises an eyebrow but extends his hand out to you regardless, smirking as he does.

To your surprise, when you peer into his eyes--both of which are crimson now, unlike last time--you see something glimmer in those blood-red orbs of his. He knows. He remembers.

You smile gently to yourself, glad to know that maybe your efforts won’t be in vain, and... you’re kind of relieved that you and Flowey aren’t the only ones who remember all these agonizing resets. You can see your own pain and weariness reflect in his eyes but, even further behind his, you see frustration, regret and hatred that continue to brew deep within him. But... he’s too afraid to let go. Too afraid to let his inner conflicts rise up to the surface. Something’s stopping him from showing his true feelings... Something quite traumatizing. He wonders if you’ll take his hand this time.

To his astonishment, you decline his handshake politely, telling him that you have somewhere to be, but you’d like to talk to him sometime later. Your words shock him, but his face quickly goes back to a neutral expression. He doesn’t like your response. You turn away anyway, despite the warning signs in your head, and bid him a quiet farewell before heading down the bridge.

Not even three steps later, you instinctively dodge an attack. Whirling around, you are met with a sharp bone to the stomach. Blood bubbles up, trickling past your lips, and you glance down at the sharp bone jutting out of your abdomen, bewilderment and disbelief written across your face. You peer over at Flowey and softly ask, “A-are you o-okay... F-Flowey?” You cough up a bit of blood, some of it trickling down your chin and onto Flowey’s petals, staining them a dark red. You notice the skeleton’s staring at you, having heard your quiet words. He’s probably thinking you’re crazy, worrying over another’s health over your own. Even more so, a monster’s.

“F-Frisk! No! N-no! S-stay with me! Please!” The flower reaches out to you. “Please!” His voice sounds so broken, so helpless. Your heart clenches in pain.

“I-I’m sorry--” A coughing fit interrupts you and you collapse onto your knees, one hand braced against the ground while the other holds Flowey against your chest. “I... I’m so-sorry, F-Flowey...” you mutter as darkness swarms your vision. “I-I couldn’t s-save you f-from this...” More coughing. More blood. “F-forgive... me...” Your arm gives out and you have just enough strength to move Flowey out of the way so you wouldn’t crush him beneath your weight. You grimace as the bone protruding out of your stomach moves abruptly from your impact onto the bridge. Hot, crimson liquid spills further out of your mouth and you struggle to breathe.

“Frisk!” Flowey cries, crawling closer to you.

“I-I’ll always...” Weak coughing. “...come b-back... y-you know...”

“I-I know...” A pause as Flowey drops his head. “But I hate seeing you like this! I hate it that you have to die so many times!” His heart is clear to you. He just wants you to survive, just this once, without dying. That’s all he’s ever wanted since the first time he’s met you. He lifts his head to glower at Sans. “Please, just leave us alone! You’ve hurt her enough already!”

“Heh.”

There’s a strange sound and a rush of air. He’s attacking again. Out of instinct, you throw your left arm in front of Flowey, protecting him from the attack. You grunt in pain, blood spilling from the wound and slump back onto the bridge, no longer able to use your arm. It pierced some major arteries, too, meaning you’ll bleed out to death soon.

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. Again. All to protect the little flower that you care for so much.

Flowey, who had brought his leaves up in a feeble attempt to protect himself, removes his arms from in front of his face and blinks, wondering what the hell happened. He notices your arm lying beside him and gasps, unable to believe you had taken the blow for him. He feels hot tears stream down his face as his heart shatters, guilt eating away at him. It was his fault you were dying. His fault you’re like this. It’s all his fault. If he weren’t so weak...

He breaks down sobbing, covering his face with his leaves.

It’s all his fault. He was too weak to protect you, to protect himself.

Your eyes glisten with tears as you see the pain in Flowey’s expression. Your hand crawls up to him and you grasp one of his leaves weakly. He gasps and takes your fingers in his leafy hands, staring at you with so much regret and anguish that it physically and emotionally harms you more than the bones have. You give him a small grin, trying your hardest to show him that everything will be alright.

He just trembles even more and screams out to the heavens of his agony. He can’t take anymore. He’s going to lose you. Again. And he hates it, but he can’t do anything about it anymore. His wails ring through the area, echoing through the chasm below, his voice bouncing back as if the gap in the earth mocks his cries. It shreds your heart to pieces, hearing such an anguished song of loss tear from his throat. It’s not like anything you’ve ever heard before, and it hurts you more than you can describe.

You manage to peer over at the skeleton before you, intrigued as to what he’s feeling right now. Your fading vision doesn’t fail you, even now, when you’re desperately clinging onto life for just a few more moments. Just to see what he’ll do.

The skeleton reacts differently than Flowey, staring at you in bewilderment, both upon your actions and the fact that you’ve managed to stay alive for this long. However, his expression is a mix of amusement and shock. He hadn’t seen anyone show so much compassion and concern for another, much less a monster. Even more so seen anyone willingly sacrifice themselves for another.

What a fool. Wasting their life on such a useless, spineless creature that can’t save its own life. It’s truly a shame to see someone so strong, yet so stupid as to throw away their life like that so readily, leave so soon. Eh, their loss.

No, something in the back of his mind says. It wasn’t foolish. It was reasonable. The flower’s all the kid’s got left and vice versa. They’ll protect each other with their lives. So, of course they’re going to do that for one another. You’d do the same for Papyrus if you could, even if he wouldn’t do it for you.

He shakes his head, dispelling his inner voice. He didn’t have any reason to sympathise with the human. After all, they’re all backstabbers and liars. They’ll befriend you, then cut you down at your most vulnerable moment. They’re all the same, he tells himself, almost as if trying to reassure himself. They’re all the same... But he has his doubts.

Then, your soul shatters, the thread, upon which it was vainly holding onto life with, finally tearing. You plummet into oblivion, a ghost of a smile hovering over your lips. You saw the inner conflict in the skeleton’s eyes, the hardening of his gaze and the narrowing of his eyes as he struggled against the kindness that still exists in his heart, against the conscience he’s trying so hard to ignore.

He’s afraid...

He hides from his heart, from himself... too afraid to let go and show his true feelings...

I wonder why...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've finally met Sans the skeleton! I wonder how you'll react to his brother...?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs summaries? I like to keep my chapters a surprise! ;)

You wake up to the sound of sobbing and broken muttering. Sitting up slowly, you notice there’s another small gash just below your knee cap on your right leg. The stinging barely registers to you when you realize where the sorrowful aura’s originating from.

Flowey’s out of his boot, hunched over in front of the door to the ruins, mumbling to himself in sentences fractured by sobs and some of his words trail off into soft whines, the letters elongated until they turned into incoherent whimpers. His head’s resting against the door and his small, slim form shakes from the sobs wracking his body.

You feel a gaping hole form in your chest, expanding at every heartbroken cry the flower makes. You clutch the front of your sweater, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. The guilt is slowly devouring you from the inside and you can’t find any way to stop it. It keeps gnawing at your heart and its grip squeezes your lungs painfully tight. It’s all your fault Flowey’s hurt like this. It’s all your fault you can’t do anything right. It’s all your fault you’re here right now. Here, in this god-forsaken place where everyone wants what you possess: a soul. A tortured realm full of suffering monsters that take out their frustrations and depression onto those around them just to make themselves feel better about themselves. It’s all your fault. You couldn’t save them before, you can’t save anyone now.

It’s your punishment. Your hand tightens its grip on your sweater, turning your knuckles as white as the snow surrounding you. You were meant to come down here, to suffer like this. All because you were useless and worthless up on the surface. You couldn’t do anything right. You couldn’t--

You didn’t--

I didn’t--

I--

Something touches your arm, snapping you out of your trance. You jerk your head up and notice that Flowey’s stopped crying. Instead, he’s watching you intensely, eyes darting all over your face, the wet trails on his cheeks freezing up from the chilly atmosphere. His dark eyes are so full of concern and dread it makes your heart feel heavier with increased guilt. You’re making him feel like this. It’s all because of you.

You realize with a start that you’re panting heavily and feel fresh tears streaming down your cheeks, hot and quick. Your fingers touch the wet trails on your face and you stare at your tear-soaked fingertips in a sort of daze, your mind still spinning with doubts, regrets and melancholy. You wipe away the salt water dampening your face and lightly grin at Flowey.

“I’m alright now. Thanks, Flowey.” Though your smile is bright, your eyes are dull and dark, unable to conceal your inner conflict anymore. You’re afraid the dam might break this time, and you’re scared. Scared of what might happen. Scared of screwing up and losing Flowey completely. Frightened of encountering any other monsters. You’re afraid to move on, to keep going. If you don’t, you’ll die here from the cold. If you do, you might lose Flowey forever, or you might reach the end. You just hope the former doesn’t come true anytime soon.

Shivering as a wave of ice passes down your spine, you pick up Flowey, who wraps himself around your arms as you hold him closely. He glances up at you in concern, but you smile through your suffering, wanting him to remain at ease and let you take the hits for him. In spite of that, you know he’ll try to get through your barriers and find out just what’s gotten you so distressed.

But, you’re frightened of letting anyone in. You put up these defenses for a reason, and you’re not about to let them crumble. Not after...

You shake your head, dispelling the memory. Now isn’t the time to think of things like that, you remind yourself. I have somewhere to go, somewhere to be. I can’t afford to ponder over the past like this. Besides, what’s done is done, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that.

You let out a weary breath, realizing that you have yet to start down the path before you. Staring at the trail and tracing it to the bridge, you wonder if you should even go on. You’re afraid you might never make it past the skeleton, never to progress and see what’s beyond the bridge.

“Maybe it’s better to stay here...” you mutter to yourself, gazing down at the stick, then at the white snow at your feet, your eyes dulled and darkened. “If I stay here... I won’t have to die again. I won’t cause Flowey anymore pain. I won’t bother the skeleton. I won’t have to do anything again.” A pause. “But... I’ll freeze to death if I don’t. And I’ll keep dying like that, again and again and again. It’ll be a slow and painful demise... but I guess that’s what someone like me deserves. This is punishment, isn’t it? This--”

“Don’t talk like that!” Flowey’s voice snaps you out of your stupor, making you realize that you had spoken too loudly, enough for Flowey to hear, and maybe the skeleton, if he’s nearby. “Please... don’t... Don’t say things like that.”

You open your mouth to apologize, but nothing comes out. You shut your mouth again and glance away, your head bowed. You hadn’t meant for Flowey to hear that. You feel someone staring at you and you notice the skeleton from before eyeing you from around a tree, close enough to hear what you and Flowey are saying, but far enough not to be seen easily, despite his black-and-red attire.

Flowey takes a deep breath before starting again, gaining your attention. “ _ Please _ don’t talk like that, Frisk. I know this is hard, but you can’t give up like this. You want to go back to the surface, don’t you?”

The surface...

You glance up at the ceiling, as if you can see through the who-knows-how-many layers of dirt and stone to the surface above. With half-lidded eyes, you stare into nothingness as memories flash through your mind, most of them ones that you didn’t want to remember. You hate that so many things in the Underground remind you of the world above, of the place you wanted to leave behind so much. The recallings of your... unpleasant... past whirl through your mind, images and small snippets of your memories playing through your mind’s eye, showing you things you’ve tried to suppress so much.

You manage to withhold the waterworks rising up from the emotions brewing up within you. You hate showing so much emotion, but there isn’t much you can do about it. You’ve always been like this, emotional yet attempting to conceal your suffering; in pain yet unwilling to tell anyone about it. You know it isn’t healthy and you shouldn’t do this but... you’ve been doing this all your life, holding up a mask, hiding the real you. And you’re only falling deeper into the grave you’ve dug yourself into. 

It wouldn’t hurt to keep it up a little longer, right?

“I... I’m sorry, Flowey...” you mumble as you lower your head, meeting Flowey’s gaze. “I just...” Your words are barely above a whisper as you bite your tongue, realizing you might say too much without meaning to. You’re afraid of slipping up, knowing that things won’t be the same if you let the truths spill. So, instead, you attempt to make a joke, smiling lightly. “Sorry about that, Flowey. I’m a bit  _ under the weather _ . This winter setting is  _ chilling me to the bone _ .”

Although the small golden flower groans from your (terrible) puns, you can see him smiling slightly as he attempts to tilt his head away to hide the grin. Unfortunately, he can’t see that your own expression’s a fake one, simply a mask to conceal your inner conflict. You know it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crumbling down. You just hope it won’t happen anytime soon.

“C’mon. Let’s keep going,” he says, his posture much more relaxed and his demeanor suggesting relief and happiness. His eyes soften with serenity and he seems generally grateful over something. Maybe it’s because you managed to convince him you’re fine? You don’t know for sure, but you’re just satisfied that Flowey’s no longer distressed.

At the bridge, the skeleton appears once more. This time, however, he appears to be extremely hesitant with offering you his hand. His crimson irises are gone, too. This doesn’t seem to bode well to you. Something’s up and you’re not sure if you want to go through this again.

You frown, concerned by the predicament you’re in. If you take his hand, you and Flowey will perish by the powerful electric shock the hand buzzer will give you. However, if you decide to decline or run off, he’ll kill you with those sharp bones he’s able to manipulate. Either way, you don’t know which would be worse: electric shock to death, or being impaled by a bunch of sharpened bones?

Both are equally agonizing... and sort of terrifying.

You glance down at Flowey, then at the skeleton. You inhale and exhale slowly, pondering over your choices. Either way, you’ll die.

“Before I... die... Can you tell me your name?” you inquire, staring straight into those seemingly endless, dark eye sockets. His crimson orbs reappear from apparent shock, his body responding in the form of a wince, as if he’d been slapped in the face.

He gives a nervous laugh, his smile ever-present. You wonder if he can ever... not smile. “Heh. Name’s Sans. Sans the skeleton.”

“I’m Frisk.”

He gives you a weird look.

“It would be rude not to introduce myself in return,” you quietly explain.

“Eh?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

You know he heard you. You guess he just isn’t used to these sorts of things. Here, it’s a violent battle royale; everyone for themselves, if they don’t have a family to take care of already. It’s easy to see that no one expresses any sort of kindness, gratitude or politeness in this dark realm. Looks like it’ll be harder than expected for you to help change this around.

Sans sneers. “With that sort of an attitude, you won’t survive down here. It’s no use trying to show us kindness. In this world, it’s kill or be killed, after all.”

A small half-smile tugs at your lips. “I know,” you reply, a knowing look in your dark eyes. “But someone has to do it.” Your words catch him by surprise.

He never expected there would be anyone who’d be willing to take on such a grueling task. He lets out a huff of a laugh. He mutters something under his breath, but it’s too quiet for you to catch. Then, in a louder voice, he says, “Welp. Better hurry up now. Boss’ll be here soon and he’s a huge fan of hunting humans. Wouldn’t want to be caught by him if I were you, sweetheart. After all, you’re the last human soul we need to break the barrier.” He states it so nonchalantly that you wonder how many of these sorts of situations he’s gone through.

Of course, no one’s told you anything about these “human souls” Sans mentioned, nor has Flowey told you what happens in the end, when you finally meet Asgore, the king of all monsters. You wonder why this is. Is it because Flowey knows that the end means certain death and he doesn’t know how to tell you? Or is it too painful for him to talk about, seeing as he’s probably led all the previous children to their ultimate deaths like this as well? Maybe he’s traumatized by it all and can’t bear to speak of it, much less hear anymore of it?

It’s very likely...

You snap out of your thoughts and grin warmly at Sans. He blushes lightly. For what reason, you have no idea. “Thank you, Sans. I hope we can become great friends some day. Goodbye and thanks for everything.” You notice his blush becomes a slightly darker red upon hearing your words.

He knows he doesn’t deserve any praise. Especially since he’s killed you. Twice, at that. He begins to wonder why you are so willing to forgive him. He knows he shouldn’t be showing mercy to someone like you, but... despite his hatred of humans, he can’t seem to hold a grudge against you. There’s just something about you that deters him from killing you, even more so about thinking of ending your life. Is it because of what he heard you say earlier? Or is it something completely different? He can’t tell exactly what’s causing this phenomenon, but he knows something’s up. You always smile at him, even when he kills you. You never hold a grudge against him, no matter what he does to you. It... confuses him... irritates him to no end.

Why can’t you be like all the other stupid humans and fight me already?! he thinks, growing furious. But even that anger doesn’t last long. Why can’t you be like them... so then it wouldn’t be so hard for me to kill you? Why can’t you just let me hate you like I hated them? Why must you, of all people, be the one I spare? Why must you make it so difficult?!

He sighs. There’s no use to it now. He’s already given you the chance to escape and you took it. Now, he’s got to deal with his younger brother, Papyrus. Great. Just what I needed, he thought bitterly, hunching over a bit from nervousness and trepidation. I just hope I don’t screw this up... dammit...

You, on the other hand, discover a mound of snow nearby, seeing it as a better hiding spot than the conveniently-shaped lamp standing a little ways from it. Besides, the “Boss”--as Sans refers to him--might see you from the angle you’d be standing in if you’d conceal yourself behind the lamp. So, you leap over the snow, making sure to leave no trace along the top of the pile, lest the approaching monster notices anything unusual.

Laying on your stomach, you shift yourself so that you can see what goes on without sticking your head out too far or being too noticeable. You hear someone approach and a tall, skeletal figure walks up to Sans, who’s sweating bullets and shaking nervously, cowering before the towering skeleton. He’s smiling, but it’s full of apprehension and extreme discomfort.

“H-hey, B-Boss,” Sans says, laughing anxiously.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Sans, you lazy bag of bones! What’re you doing out here?! You’re supposed to be at your post, dammit! And you haven’t even recalibrated your puzzles! Get your lazy ass to work now, or so help me I’ll...” the skeleton scoffs. “You know what, nevermind! What the hell are you doing all the way out here?! And why were you by the gate?! Answer me, Sans, before I decide to finally bash in your skull for your incompetence!” He raises his hand threateningly, summoning a large bone, as if about to act out on his threat. Unlike Sans’ attack, his aren’t sharpened.

“Okay! Okay!” Sans exclaims frantically, waving his hands out in front of himself defensively. “I-I’ll tell you, okay? J-just hear me out, okay?”

The “Boss” lowers his arm and dismisses the bone. He silently awaits the shorter skeleton’s response. “Well?” he prods, dragging out the word, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at the smaller monster with cold, menacing, blood-red eyes. Their eyes are exactly the same, you realize, except Sans’ are wider and he usually only has his left eye bearing the crimson ring of his irises.

Now that you think about it... they almost look like they’d be brothers...

But that wouldn’t be likely, considering how rudely and violently the taller one acts around the shorter skeleton. But... don’t siblings also do that? To toughen up the weaker ones? Is that what he’s doing? Trying to make the weaker, shorter skeleton stronger by acting terribly to his brother? (If they are brothers, that is.)

You observe the larger one closely and notice subtle shifts in his body movements. His eyes aren’t as harsh as they were when he first arrived, before he noticed Sans, suggesting he still holds a certain place in his heart for Sans. His posture, although intimidating, bears soft hints that he’s only putting up a front. His body is slightly more relaxed than it would be if he were facing a stranger, or even an enemy. His jaw is loose, meaning he isn’t as angry as he appears, but his face is passive, betraying no information of his inner emotions whatsoever. You can’t exactly stare him in the eyes right now, so you can’t tell what he’s feeling or what’s going on through his mind.

You don’t know why, but reading others is sort of like your special ability. You can tell what someone’s feeling or generally thinking just by looking into their eyes. As they say, “The eyes are the gateway to the soul.” To you, that’s especially true.

You’re not sure when you developed this ability, but you’ve had it for years. Probably from observing others rather than interacting with the people around you. Even the most subtle of hints are usually easy for you to spot. There have only been one, maybe two, people at most that you had great difficulty reading. Maybe it’s because you didn’t know them as well as you thought you did...

Sans finally gains the courage to speak, fearfully staring up at the other yet avoiding his eyes. “I-I thought I h-heard someone c-come through the d-door, so I w-went to ch-check. B-but when I g-got there, they--they were gone. O-only footprints in th-the snow w-were left t-to show they w-were th-there.” His stuttering and how he sweat even harder and glanced around nervously are clear signs of great stress and perturbation. His body is trembling terribly, although the taller skeleton ignores it.

You are surprised he actually lied about you being here. You didn’t think he’d do such a thing, even after seeing where you chose to hide and after what he told you and did to you before. Furthermore, he’s awful at lying, but it’s hidden pretty well in his nerve-wracked state. You feel bad that he has to go through such a thing, but you know there isn’t much you can do for him right now.

The tall one’s face twists in fury and incredulity upon hearing his comrade’s words. “ _WHAT?!_ ” he bellows, his figure taking on a more aggressive stance. “There’s a _human_ here and you couldn’t capture it?! I knew it would come to this.” He pinches what appears to be the bridge of his nose in annoyance and irritation. “You worthless sack of _fucking_ _shit_ can’t do _anything_ right! You’re supposed to _stay_ at your post and make sure _no_ human gets through before I get here, dumbass!”

Sans cowers in sheer terror.

“Why do I even bother anymore,” the other grumbles. “You better not fail this time. If there really _is_ a human, bring them to me. Once the king has the last human soul, monsterkind will be free and we’ll be able to destroy the human race once and for all, just as King Asgore promised! We’ll all be free after all these years of darkness and solitude.” There’s a certain sentimentality in his last sentence, revealing the longing of being able to live above ground again deep within his heart.

Though, Sans doesn’t seem to detect the subtle change in the other’s voice. He’s just staring at the ground, his posture slouched in defeat and mortification with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Now, go and recalibrate your puzzles before the human manages to get past this point. Hurry up, or we’ll never get to capture the last human we need to escape this shithole!”

With that, the tall one briskly strides away, his back straight and his shoulders pulled back. His walk shows confidence, but also arrogance and pride. He’s got a pretty big ego, from the looks of it.

You carefully leave your hiding spot and approach Sans, frowning in worry over the skeleton. Flowey, who’s now seated on your shoulder, searches for any signs of danger. You gently place a hand on Sans’ shoulder but he flinches at your touches, whirls around and aims several sharpened bones at you. You raise your hands in surrender, showing him you meant no harm in the action.

“S-sorry...” you tell him, dropping your arms. You rub the back of your neck nervously. “I... uh... shouldn’t have done that. Sorry...” You hug yourself, avoiding his gaze, your face lowered in guilt and shame.

His tense stance slacks and he lowers his arm, dismissing the bones. “ _Don’t_ touch me _again_ ,” he says, though not as harshly as he wanted to. As much as he hated humans, he couldn’t find it in himself to despise you. His gaze softens for a moment as he pinpoints all the cuts littering your body. At least... the ones he can see. You look so fragile and broken with all those lingering scars; wounds that are doomed to never heal, never disappear.

You know he noticed those gashes before, but he’s never mentioned anything about it. You’re kind of glad for it but, at the same time, you want to talk about it. It’s a painful paradox, one that you can’t seem to get yourself out of. You want help, but you’re too afraid to ask for it, as has always been the case with you.

“That... was my younger brother, Papyrus,” Sans tells you after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, his tone somber and low. Although you react in shock upon hearing Papyrus being the younger brother, you say nothing. “He’s the head of the Royal Guard, made to protect the king and bring in any humans that fall down here. He’ll kill you the moment he sees you, so you better be careful, sweetheart.” He glances over his shoulder at you, a wavering smile on his face, and winks, vanishing into thin air.

You stare, wondering where he went and how the hell he did that. You wonder what other abilities he might have, but then shake away the thought, fearful of what you might find out.

“C’mon, Flowey. Let’s keep going,” you tell the flower on your shoulder.

For the next hour and a half, you and Flowey make your way through the forest, your body growing numb from the cold. Yet, you don’t dare to give up. As long as you keep moving, you’ll be fine.

As you go on, you and your companion scout out any traps, narrowly avoiding being blown up on more than one occasion, and solve puzzles. Most of them weren’t that difficult, so there were very few times you nearly got skewered by blades shooting out of the ground when you stepped in the wrong place or screwed up somewhere in the puzzle. It was... terrifying, to say the least.

Finally, you reached a long bridge, panting and covered in small cuts and bruises. You glance down at your fingers and see them beginning to turn blue from the frigid weather. You shiver violently and your legs finally give out from under you, your knees knocking into each other painfully as you land on your rump in the icy snow.

Gazing down the bridge, you catch sight of two figures on the opposite side, one shorter than the other. You instantly recognize the squat, round shape of Sans and the towering stature and spiked shoulders of Papyrus. You groan in annoyance and realization.

It’s a trap. And you’re about to fall right into their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter just for you!
> 
> You've met Papyrus. Although... not directly. Now, you're about to face another challenge. I wonder how you'll get out of this one.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, here's a heads up about the upcoming weeks: my spring break is ending tomorrow (I don't know why my spring break's the first week of April, but it is) and I'm going to take longer to update because of school and homework and whatnot. The earliest I might be uploading are the weekends, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all the kudos and the bookmark!


	5. Chapter 5

You sigh in defeat. There’s literally no other way into Snowdin other than this bridge, which means you’ll have to face the skeleton brothers. You get the feeling that you might not get out of this one alive. You’re tempted to leave Flowey behind on this one, but if you actually  _ do _ manage to get past this, you wouldn’t know how to retrieve him afterwards if the bridge were to collapse. And you can’t exactly stay here, since you’ll be going nowhere but in an endless cycle of resets as you freeze, starve or dehydrate to death... whichever comes first.

Another, heavier, sigh leaves your lips as you realize you have no other choice in this matter. There’s no way you’re going to go back, considering the possibility of there being some still untriggered traps, so the only way to head now is across the bridge. Besides, mother isn’t going to answer the ruin doors anytime soon...

Getting back up, your legs shake, threatening to buckle under the weight of your body. You’re surprised you’ve even managed to get this far. You were expecting your body to give out some time ago, but it seems to be functioning just barely enough for you to move on, despite all the cuts marring your skin.

Flowey gazes up at you in wonder and concern, awestruck by your determination to continue on, regardless of certain death awaiting you just up ahead. He secretly envies your strength, wishing he could be as resolved as you. His saddened mood catches your attention as he lowers his gaze to the ground.

This time around, you say nothing. You simply gently touch one of his leaves, as if silently reassuring him that everything will be alright. You sense him smile weakly, but his aura still radiates guilt and ire, none of it directed at you. You get the feeling he’s blaming himself for all that’s happened, even if you tell him it’s not. The only thing you can do for him for now is to keep him company and give him comfort when he needs it, much like what you want to do for Sans.

You know that the relationship between him and his brother, Papyrus, isn’t the best. It definitely needs to be worked on, especially with communication. The entire issue revolves around their lack of association with one another. Sans is too afraid to tell his brother what his harsh methods of interaction are doing to him, and Papyrus is only doing it to protect his (older) sibling, but not in the best way. It’s unnerving that he can’t the harm he’s doing to Sans through his words and actions, even more so that he can’t see just how bad the damages are.

You’re going to change that. You don’t know how. You don’t know when. But you sure as hell know it’s not going to stay the same after you’re done with them.

Starting down the bridge, you struggle to conceal your trepidation and unease. You know this won’t end well, certainly for you, but you know that it’s just a matter of time before you get Sans on your side. And maybe Papyrus, if you can get through to him.

As you draw closer, you notice they’re talking. However, it’s not the kind of peaceful conversation you were hoping for. They haven’t noticed you yet, even though you’re only about six feet away from them, and you can still hear their conversation over the howling wind. Mostly it’s because Papyrus is shouting at his brother, clearly irritated.

“You said they’d be here by now, you useless bag of bones! They’re either late or  _ dead! _ ” Papyrus yells, dramatically throwing his hands up into the air.

“W-well, y-you did recalibrate y-your puzzles... s-so they m-might be stuck on o-one of th-them,” Sans stutters out, agitated. You can see he’s sweating profusely, the fear in his crimson eyes emphasizing his terrified aura. He’s shaking, too.

“If the human doesn’t get here  _ soon _ , I  _ swear _ to Asgore I will  _ bash _ your head in!” Papyrus moves toward Sans, who steps back as his dread grows stronger. The taller skeleton looms over him and growls, “You’ve disappointed me numerous times before, Sans, but this...  _ this _ is by far the worst one yet! Not only could you not capture the human, but you let them go without so much as lifting a finger against them!”

Sans recoils in shock, nearly tripping over his feet from it. “Y-you--?!”

“Oh, yes, brother. I  _ did _ . And I must say, I am very dissatisfied with your actions today. You could’ve fought the human and brought them back to me. I would’ve been greatly pleased with you, but now that you let them go...” He trails off, the ominous tone in his words revealing his next actions to you. He raises his hand to backhand Sans, who’s frozen in fear. Then--

_ Whap! _

Bone meets flesh and you tumble away a little ways from them, your cheek stinging from the pain and blood seeps out from inside of your mouth. He had slapped you hard enough to cause the inside of your cheek to tear against your teeth. You wince as you run your tongue over the raw and bleeding wound.

Papyrus and Sans stare as you get back up to your feet, Flowey still on your shoulder. Miraculously, he hasn’t been injured in the least, but it’s clear he’s concerned over you by the way he brushes a leaf against your bruising left cheek in a gentle manner. Though, even the lightest touch against your darkening skin makes you wince.

The pair of skeletons don’t know how to respond at first. Then, Papyrus straightens and turns toward you, while Sans relaxes a little, relieved that he won’t be abused by his brother... again. However, his eyes gleam with confusion and worry. Concern that’s aimed straight at you.

“ _ Human _ ,” Papyrus growls lowly.

“Leave Sans alone!” you demand, taking a few steps forward, as if challenging the taller skeleton.

San stiffens, eyes wide with surprise. He’s shocked that you’d willingly take a blow for him, seemingly without reason, too. Unless... No. You couldn’t have... He can’t believe you’re trying to  _ protect _ him.  _ Him _ , of all monsters. After all he’s done...

“Oh? And why should I?” Papyrus steps up, easily towering over you as you stand barely three feet from one another.

“He’s your brother! You shouldn’t treat him like that!” you argue, the metallic taste of blood nearly making you gag as you speak. The inside of your cheek stings, but you don’t care anymore. Your hands tighten into fists as tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it, seeing the head of the Royal Guard treat his brother in such a way. You don’t want to see another family torn apart like this.

“ _ So what? _ ” he retorts, crossing his arms across his chest. “I can do whatever I want with my brother. Besides, what would  _ you _ know about siblings? You came down here  _ alone _ , as I recall. Who are  _ you _ to tell me how to treat my own brother when you have  _ none? _ ” His words strike deep, reopening old wounds that were never completely healed in the first place.

Memories leap unbidden from their place in the back of your mind. You grit your teeth tightly, to the point of causing yourself pain. But the anguish brought back by the recallings of the past hurt even more than any physical torture you could ever go through here. You tremble from the effort of keeping yourself from launching yourself at Papyrus in a frenzied manner, your eyes glue to the snow beneath your feet as hot tears well up and stream down your face. Your heart pulses with a mixture of emotions, pounding against your chest as if it, too, seeks escape from the demons of your past.

You take a deep breath and calm yourself, shivering from the cold rather than the memories. “Your brother is all you have left, right?” you start, lifting your gaze from the ground to meet Papyrus’. “Shouldn’t you be doing everything you can to protect Sans, not oppress him with cruel words and physical abuse?”

Papyrus snorts. “You obviously don’t understand how this works. It’s to toughen up this lazy piece of shit so that he doesn’t disappoint me even further than he already has.” You can tell by the way he speaks that he’s being careful not to reveal too much about his true feelings for his brother. He keeps glancing at Sans from the corner of his eye, as if seeing if his older sibling caught any meanings in between the lines. He appears to relax a bit when he notices that his brother hasn’t caught on... yet.

You frown a little, upset that the taller monster won’t be a little more open about his inner feelings, but then remember that this world has the mindset of ‘every man for himself,’ which discourages any signs of softness toward others, no matter if they’re family or not. It disheartens you that such a cruel realm exists, but the very idea of turning it all around into a somewhat more pleasant place fills you with determination.

“Nevertheless,” Papyrus continues, “I have a duty: to retrieve the last soul we need to break the barrier and give it to King Asgore, so that he’ll give us the freedom he has promised us for so many years now. And now that you’re here, it just makes my job easier.”

With that said, he launches a wave of bones at you.

You leap away, just barely brushing by the barrage of white and blue bones. These ones aren’t sharpened, however.

“Please, stop this!” you cry out to the towering monster. “Violence isn’t the answer! Can’t you see? This won’t solve anything!”

“Hah! You and your words. They mean  _ nothing _ to me! You’re the last soul we need to get out of the Underground and that’s all that matters!” He increases the ferocity of his attacks and it becomes much more difficult to dodge them, especially since Flowey’s still seated on your shoulder.

You grit your teeth in frustration but don’t allow your anger to get the best of you. After all, the moment you let your emotions control you, you’ll either perish or regret your actions afterwards.

After about ten minutes of this constant dodging and attacking, you and Papyrus stop for a moment, panting and sweating heavily. You can see that he’s growing irritated by your refusal to die. You manage to catch your breath before you speak again, trying to get through to the skeleton before he ends up killing you.

“P-Papyrus,” you gasp out, still a bit winded from the battle. “Please, l-listen. Just... just hear me out, o-okay?”

He only huffs in response, straightening as he regains his breath as well. He crosses his arms, awaiting your response. Despite his overwhelming need to kill you, there’s something nagging at the back of his mind, telling him to at least let you say what you want before he finally ends your pathetic life.

“I know you’re not used to showing emotion and you believe that being harsh to Sans will make him stronger, but have you ever thought of how your words and actions might be affecting your brother?” you inquire.

He raises an eyebrow, peering at Sans from the corner of his eye.

The shorter skeleton starts to sweat profusely and his ever-present smile becomes strained. His eyes dart between you, Papyrus and the ground, never meeting the eyes of his “boss”. He glances over at you, wondering what you’re up to, and shifts nervously under his taller sibling’s gaze.

Long moments of silence pass before Papyrus attempts to surprise you with a bone attack. You lean away just enough for them to brush by you, tearing your black-and-white sweater a little bit. Flowey has pressed himself against your neck, trying to avoid being hit by the bones.

Then, Papyrus’ face twists in frustration and annoyance. He sends out wave after wave of bones, some just barely missing you. This goes on for a much shorter time, considering how worn out he is from using so much of his power in such a prolonged period of time.

When he realizes you aren’t dead yet, he lets out one last attack, this one being a cone of bones sprouting out of the snow toward you at an alarming rate. He collapses onto his knees as he does so, his fists slamming into the ground, his body too worn out to hold him up anymore.

You’re too tired to avoid this one, so you sink to your knees, despite Flowey telling you to get up and run, and offer a gentle smile to the skeleton just seven feet away from you. You spread your arms out weakly, as if accepting your upcoming demise, the small grin across your lips never wavering and your eyes bearing no fear, anger or hatred toward the monster. Your heart holds no grudge against him, despite the rapidly approaching bones. There’s only warmth and forgiveness.

Just like it had been with Sans.

His eyes widen in realization, gleaming with inner conflict. He doesn’t know what to do.

You drop your arms, too weary to hold them up any longer.

Four feet left.

He wants to take your soul. To give the King the last soul they need to break the barrier.

Three.

He can’t take your soul now. Not when you’re not willing to fight him for it. It just... won’t be the same.

Two.

You close your eyes, calming your racing heart as much as you can. You smile has yet to fade.

One.

And yet... if he throws away this chance just because of these stupid reasons... he might end up making the greatest mistake of his life.

...

...

...

Nothing.

No searing pain.

No blood staining the pure-white snow beneath your legs.

No bones breaking through your weakened form.

Nothing.

You open your eyes to see the bones just barely two centimeters from your face.

...What?

You peer over at Papyrus to see him slumped over in defeat, his head low and his shoulders rising and falling from his heavy breathing. Though you’re glad he hasn’t killed you, you feel almost... guilty for being so selfish with your soul, preventing the monsters from leaving the Underground because you’re too afraid to give it up.

A part of you wishes he’d just end your miserable life already. After all, there’s nothing waiting for you above ground. So, what’s the point of living when you have no one who misses you? Who acknowledges your existence? What’s the point of moving on when you have nowhere to go?

But you know you can’t move on. Not anymore, at least. Your life will continue to reset from your last save point and it’ll only be you, Flowey and Sans suffering through the memories of the previous runs. And you don’t want that.

Papyrus mutters something to Sans, turning his head a bit to the side as he does.

“R-right, Boss,” the shorter skeleton replies and slings one of Papyrus’ arms around his shoulders. His gaze lingers on you for a little while, his crimson eyes darting all over you, as if trying to figure out why his brother, a ruthless murderer of the Underground and head of the Royal Guard, would  _ spare  _ you. You. A  _ human _ , of all things.

Not a moment later, they’re both gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye. You would’ve thought they hadn’t been there in the first place if it weren’t for the now crumbling bones and the imprints in the freshly fallen snow near the bridge.

You relax completely and realize just how tired you are. You’ve gone through an emotional breakdown in the form of a panic attack, survived an encounter with both Sans  _ and _ Papyrus, spent a good deal of your time avoiding the traps set all over the forest, and just now managed to miraculously survive a difficult battle, which could’ve ended with your death within the span of not even half a second. Your body trembles terribly, drained from all that you have endured in only, what? One day? Maybe not even half a day?

You sigh. Damn. That’s harsh.

All you want to do now is lay down on the ground and sleep. But, you can’t do that. You have to go a little bit further. Just a little more and you’ll find a place to sleep. A place to rest your weary body.

It takes nearly all of your strength just to get up, even more so to keep yourself from collapsing where you stand. Turning around and making your way further from the bridge, you head deeper into the snowy landscape, reaching a large banner only several yards later. It says, “WELCOME TO SNOWDIN” with the name of the town crossed out in red marker and replaced with the word, “HELL” in large, capital letters.

You sigh again, agitated. It can’t get any worse, now can it?

A loud crash and the sound of glass shattering draws your attention. Did someone just... hurl a bunny out the window of a bar? The white-furred animal starts to get up, only to be tackled by a large, heavily armored dog. They exchange blows, the heavier canine gaining an advantage with its weight and size.

The bunny’s attempts become frantic as the dog rears back a little, preparing to launch a devastating blow on the smaller monster.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?! I-I’ll give you anything! Anything at all! J-just don’t kill me!” the white bunny shrieks, trying to escape. By the sound of its voice and its build, you can tell the monster’s a male. You can’t quite say the same for the dog, however...

The creature’s words fall on deaf ears as the canine reveals its white fangs, its teeth much sharper than the ones any dogs on the surface possess. You start to move as it bares its teeth at the bunny.

This is gonna hurt, you think, squeezing your eyes shut as you block the dog’s fangs from reaching the monster’s exposed neck with your left arm. Sharp teeth sink into your flesh and your clench your teeth and curl your hands into fists as you endure the painful blow. You manage to keep from crying out in agony, the only sound leaving your lips being a mix between a whimper and a grunt.

The atmosphere grows still. Any sound coming from the bar has ceased and all movement frozen as onlookers and passersby stare at the the three of you. Nobody saw it coming.

The armored canine slowly relinquishes its grip on your forearm, blood streaming down onto the clothes of the white bunny underneath you. The crimson liquid stains the lips of the white dog, although it does nothing to attack you. Its eyes hold nothing but guilt, as if it’s blaming itself for your injury, even though you were the one to get in the way of the attack.

Looks like not all monsters are as terrible as they seem...

You cling to your arm, wincing as you place pressure on the heavily-bleeding limb. You glance down at the bunny and smile weakly, mostly apologetic. “S-sorry about y-your shirt. I k-kinda ruined it...” You give a nervous little laugh and stand up on shaking legs. “D-don’t get yours-self into anymore tr-trouble, okay?”

With one last feeble grin, you stumble away, your knees threatening to buckle at every step you take. You can feel the entire town watching you, disbelief and doubts in their burning gazes. They don’t know if they can trust you, even if you  _ did _ save one of their own. You don’t blame them for it. You’d do the same if you’d be in their position.

Making your way to a nearby inn that you happened to pass whilst trying to get to the bunny before his throat was ripped out, you notice a glowing, golden star hovering over the ground near the inn. You crouch down (more like clumsily dropping to your knees) and touch the star.

Instantly, a warm wave passes over you, a tingling feeling surging through you as your wounds heal. Your body shivers involuntarily as you compare the feeling to the warmth of Toriel’s fireplace. It make you feel so secure, so... in control and so peaceful for once. You open your eyes--realizing you’d closed them--when the warm wave fades and leaves you to the mercy of the icy snow and frigid wind of Snowdin.

Every single one of your injuries have been healed, even the one on your forearm.

All but the scars, that is.

You glance down at them sorrowfully, knowing that you’ll never be rid of them for the rest of your life. It won’t matter how many times you reset or save. They’ll always be there, multiplying gradually every time you die, reminding you constantly of your failures, both from here in the underground and the surface.

These scars...

They  _ mock _ you.

Ridicule you for your inability to finally find peace.

Scorn you for your failures and taunt you, showing you just how much of a disappointment you truly are.

You couldn’t even join your family, who’re probably laughing at your suffering right now. You can’t end your own life properly, ending up in another version of hell, this one being hundreds of feet beneath the surface. And you’ll probably never find your happy ending anytime soon. If ever.

You shake your head, dispelling the awful thoughts clouding your mind. Now’s not the time to think of such things. You make your way toward the inn and ask the rabbit woman for a room to stay in for the night. Although she glares at you, her expression becomes a little more friendlier when you pay her for the room.

You bid her a quiet, “Good night,” before heading up to your destination. You swear you hear her drop something and stare at you upon hearing your words. It saddens you no one in this town is ever kind to anyone here.

You just hope you’re strong enough to change it.

Or... at least, help it change.

Only time and your determination will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you, guys!
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me. I know it might've only taken a week this time around, but the wait's going to extend longer later into the next few months. I don't know how long it'll take for me to update again, but know that I'm so grateful for all of your support and your patience. Thanks for all the kudos! Happy Easter! XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some dark themes up ahead! (Don't say I didn't warn you!) And... quite a bit of emotion.

You toss and turn in the small bed, sometimes staring at the walls on either side of you, other times at the ceiling. You just couldn’t seem to get any sleep. You keep glancing over at Flowey, wondering if he’s been awakened by your constant squirming. Thankfully, he doesn’t stir.

You don’t know how much longer you can take this. It’s been hours--at least, it seems like it--and you can’t go back to sleep, no matter how hard you try. Your mind torments you with visions of your previous resets and your body burns in remembrance of your past wounds, the scars criss-crossing your skin stinging in response. The burn of Toriel’s flames as she reluctantly ends your life, hoping to give you a quick and easy death compared to what will come at the hands of the others; Sans’ sharp bones and the zapper in the palm of his boney hand, the powerful electric shock and the piercing agony as the bones penetrate your already fragile body; Papyrus’ relentless attacks and your feeble attempts to convince him to let you go.

It’s all stacking up against you, tearing scars into your already broken heart. You swear you can hear it crack as your failures cloud your mind, suffocating you in heavy guilt and depression. You can’t save them. They’re too far gone. Look at what they’ve done to you! They don’t want you to save them. They just want revenge. Vengeance for what your kind did to them. They want bloodshed.

As these haunting memories flash before your eyes, you start to lose hope. Maybe... maybe all of this is hopeless. Maybe you were never meant to help them. Maybe all you’re here for is to be another punching bag for someone else, just another soul to add to the collection they already have. You’re nothing more than just another human to them. Even more so since they’ve all turned against one another. Every man--err,  _ monster _ \--for himself.

You shake your head. You can’t sleep anymore, despite how much your body cries out to you to let it rest. Your mind, too tormented by your thoughts and memories, has other plans.

You barely register you’re outside until you feel the sharp coldness of the gelid landscape surrounding you. You shiver and clutch your upper arms, rubbing them in hopes of regaining some of your rapidly dropping body heat. You know it’s a fruitless effort, but it’s a force of habit, making you feel a little better knowing that you still haven’t frozen to death.

Trudging down the snowy path leading further into the small town of Snowdin, you feel the searing glares and warning growls from the inhabitants, most tensing for a fight and shielding their young ones. The large, white dog from mere hours ago was speaking to the rabbit he had nearly killed. It seems they were making amends... although, they still appeared to be wary of each other.

When they notice you passing by, the white dog snarls and glowers at you, pissed off that you had interrupted the fight between them, taking away his chance at slaughtering the poor rabbit. However, the rabbit remains stoic, though his eyes soften with relief and thanks.

You smile weakly, your dark eyes bearing nothing but acceptance of the dog’s unspoken rage, and warmth, to which the rabbit appears surprised and the armored dog frowns upon. They’re shocked that you’ve done nothing but continue to be kind to them, despite the hatred and ire they’ve sent your way. It appears that no matter  _ what  _ they do to you, you won’t despise them for it.

A wooden structure appears abruptly before you. It appears to be a bar of sorts named Grillby’s. It seems cordial enough, judging by the benign ambience of the slightly ajar door, allowing a small wisp of heat to coil out of the structure. A soft light from inside accentuates the deep brown of the hardwood floor and darker browns of the walls and tables. Despite the strong urge from your weary conscience coaxing you toward the alluring geniality of the bar, the ferocity and unpredictability of the patrons within the tavern prevents you from entering, piercing through the fog of fatigue clouding your mind, much like that of the sun on a cloudy day, bright and strong amongst the dark mass known as exhaustion.

You jolt away when you realize just how close you had been to touching the door, your fingertips just centimeters from the chocolate-brown door. Your outstretched hand withdraws, joining the other against your chest in a lightly-curled fist around the first. Your timid nature acts up and you move away, starting down the path again, shivering against the icy wind swirling around you, cloaking you in a sphere of numbing cold.

There’s another path that branches off to the left, drawing your attention. You wonder where it might lead. It turns out that the open road stops near a wide river, the dark water gurgling by in a mass of swirling darkness. It’s so dark... so cold... so much like home...

Just one more step...

...and you’ll be free...

Just a little push...

...and it’ll be all over...

...only for your to reset...

... _ again. _

There’s no escape for you, huh...?

You’ll be stuck here forever. In an endless loop. Doomed to repeat these fights and deaths until these scars overwhelm your body. Your arms drop down limply, your shoulders slumping in defeat. The building urge to cry claws at your heart, tears stinging at the edges of your eyes, your vision beginning to blur. A dull ache eats away at your chest, leaving a gaping hole. It consumes your mind and soul, draining all color and hope from your heart. Your throat tightens and you whimper as a single tear trickles down your face, followed by more, increasing in abundance at every second that passes. Your legs threaten to buckle, your eyes focused on nothing but the water less than a foot away from you.

Your ears barely register the muffled shout behind you as your dark brown boot crushes the freshly fallen snow as you take a step forward, your toes well past the edge and your mind drifting away into dark memories and troubled thoughts.

You have no place here.

The snow beneath your shoe threatens to slip out from under you, shifting just a little.

Your life has no purpose.

Your boot slides a tiny bit further as you increase the pressure onto the snow-turned-slush.

There’s no one left who cares about you.

The chunk of ice and snow beneath your foot sinks down a little in a sharp jerk, your body starting to tumble after it into the dark abyss before you.

What’s the point anymore?

Your heart flutters at the thought of finally joining your family--at least, the ones who cared about you. You don’t give a damn about the others, though. They can go burn in hell for all you care. And yet, the terror of dying enters your veins at the same moment, your mind conjuring doubts about your choice. Your heart stifles a little and you tense up, a seed of regret entering your mind.

Maybe you’re not meant to die right now...

No. This is your choice. You can’t back out now. Not when you’re so close...

Your eyes start to close as your limp form plummets toward the water, expecting the sudden rush of piercing iciness. Soon enough, you’ll be gone. And nobody will care.

Something firm wraps around your waist, catching you before you can reach the river. The stranger lifts you up and away from the edge, your boots dragging through the water and leaving rivets in the snow as you’re brought back onto stable ground. Your body remains limp, your eyes now half-open as the black hole in your chest increases by ten-fold.

You failed.

You couldn’t die.

You couldn’t--

“Frisk! What the  _ fuck _ were you trying to do?!” a familiar, deep yet somewhat gruff voice demands in conniption. Sans. What’s he doing here? “What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?! Why were you trying to kill yourself?! Answer me!” He’s turned you around so that you’re facing him, on your knees along with him, and proceeds to shake you by the shoulders, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to shake you out of your stupor. And yet, you don’t raise your head or acknowledge him. There’s no point to any of this anymore. You’ll perish at some point anyway by the hands of another, if not Sans or his brother.

The skeleton grows frustrated from your lack of response, but you can sense the concern underlying his words. No. He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t. You’re a  _ human _ . You’re the last soul they need, so why not get rid of you now and collect your soul right after? That’s the whole idea, right? So they can finally be free, while you’ll be left behind as nothing more than the seventh soul used to break the barrier. And that’s all you’ll ever be known as.

“Frisk,” Sans says, his voice softer when he notices you won’t lift your head, much less look in his general direction. “Frisk?” He chokes out, his voice barely audible. You swear you can hear it crack as uncertainty, panic and worry creep into his tone. His hands tighten around your shoulders painfully, but you barely flinch, your eyes still glued to the snow.

A trembling hand lifts your head up by the chin, gently coaxing your attention upward. Your dulled orbs meet the white pinpricks of the normally red-eyed gaze of Sans. That’s strange. He’s never had eyes like that before. His usual grin has grown crooked and frail, his anxious and carefree nature broken by the sight of you, seeing you like this... so lethargic and forlorn. His expression is one of consternation, vexation and... fear?

“Frisk...?” he tentatively asks, his voice low, as if he’s afraid of speaking too loudly, lest he startles you. “S-sweetheart...? Are you... What were you doing?”

A pang of sorrow and contrition cut deep into your heart. You feel guilty for making Sans so perturbed and feel tears beginning to prick at the edges of your eyes, running along the rims of your eyelids and spilling out onto your cheeks. You bottom lip trembles and you lower your head, burying your face in your hands. You barely notice that Sans has pulled you into an awkward embrace until the top of your head presses against his collarbone.

Out of instinct and the need for comfort, you grasp his black jacket, crying and sobbing into his chest as he holds you close. He remains unusually silent and vigilant, lest anyone notices him in this sentiment moment. In reality, he’s a pretty understanding guy, but puts up such a tough, albeit anxious, front to hide his true emotions, much like his brother. It can’t be helped when the world around you wants you dead, after all.

What’s strange is when Sans starts to pet your hair absentmindedly as you calm down, your tears slowing and your hiccupping and sobbing dying in your throat, the soft whines of emotional anguish fading into nothing. Your grip tightens on his threadbare jacket as you struggle to keep from bursting out into another fit of tears, your teeth grinding together painfully tight to hold back the emotions.

“You’re alright now, Frisk,” Sans mumbles, barely audible. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.” Though his words are sincere and kind, he bears some doubts, uncertain as to whether or not he’s doing this right. “I... I’m not... very good at... well...  _ this _ ,” he continues, reluctantly opening up to you. “Pap... he... he isn’t very... friendly.”

You let out a huff of a laugh, smiling feebly. “I... I know...”

You sense Sans frown. “Don’t laugh! I’m trying to help you!” He’s probably blushing a deep crimson from embarrassment, both from being in this situation and particular position, and also from openly admitting something without trying to hide it, especially something he isn’t good at.

“S-sorry...” you mutter. “I j-just... It’s f-funny that you... that y-you’re the one h-helping me...” Your hands relax their rigid hold on his clothes, your eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing in particular. “I-it’s not bad... It’s j-just... unusual...”

He huffs, glancing away. Why is this so difficult?

“Same for you. You’re not one to...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought. It’s too painful and familiar to him. You were so willing to give up your life. Just like that. He should’ve known. All those times you opened up your arms to upcoming death... That wasn’t just acceptance of the inevitable. It was suicide at the same time. That’s why you don’t mind dying so much...

With a soft sigh, he rests his chin atop your head as you shift a little, leaning against him, your right shoulder pressing against his chest. He doesn’t seem to mind that much. He wraps his arms around you protectively, as if trying to shield you from the world and its cruelty.

You’ve never seen this side of him. And... you kind of enjoy it. Your mind, though worn out, has grown lighter and your thoughts a little brighter, knowing there’s at least  _ one _ person--err,  _ monster _ \--left who truly cares about you. Why else would he spare you from what would’ve been an unpleasant and painfully slow death? It could be that he’s only letting you live to torture you later on... To stab you in the back like everyone else once he gains your trust and finds you at your most vulnerable point.

Hell, he could do this right now, even. Murder you while you’re recovering from a quite traumatizing event. But... he hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

Maybe there’s still hope for you after all...

You attempt to glance up at the skeleton as discretely as you’re able in the predicament you’re in and analyze his expression. He appears to be thinking about something, judging by the frown etched in his face. And it’s not something very pleasant from the looks of it.

“H-hey, Sans...?” you timidly start, trying to pull away from him. His arms refuse to relinquish their grip on you. He’s gotten you pinned. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid you might try to kill yourself again if he lets go? Very likely, regarding his reaction to your suicide attempt.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he answers, not moving his head, yet his white pinpricks peer down at you. His words remain gentle and sentimental as he speaks--which you have yet to accustom yourself to, even though you know this sort of tenderness won’t last. “What is it?” He seems so... at ease... right now. It’s kinda strange, but comforting, knowing that you’re helping him remain serene while he’s consoling you in your desperate time of need. It fills you with determination, your heart glowing just a little bit brighter.

You shiver, your body reminding you about your physical weakness as a human. You secretly envy Sans for not being able to feel the cold, with no skin and all. “Can I... can you let me go?”

He jolts in realization, blushing a cherry red. “O-oh. R-right. Sorry.” He removes himself from you, rubbing the back of his head, now about a foot away from you. He’s even more red-faced than you thought he’d get.

“I-it’s okay,” you tell him, blushing a soft pink yourself as it finally dawns upon you just how intimate the position was. “I-I just need to get back... t-to the inn.”

“Y-yeah... Right. Um... S-see ya,” he sputters out and teleports away, gone within the blink of an eye. He was pretty flustered when he left, too. You wonder if Papyrus will notice anything.

You get back onto your feet and glance back at the dark, swirling mass behind you. Oh how you wish to finally move on. If it weren’t for those damned resets, you’d be in the afterlife by now, joyful and free.

You shake your head, sighing, and walk down the path, your boots crunching through the snow. You glance up at the dark ceiling, wondering just how long you’ve been outside.

A frigid breeze catches you unaware and you tremble violently, clenching your teeth against the cold, grasping your upper arms and rubbing them in hopes of lasting just a little longer against the chilly weather. It’ll take a little while before you reach the inn, after all.

As you make your way down the main road, the wind picks up and the snow cascades down faster and thicker. It seems even the weather’s going against you. The crystallized shards of water sting as they descend in a gyrate fashion, billowing around you in a whirlwind of ice and air, sticking to your hair and clothes as they do so. It’s exasperating and tiring, draining at your strength at every step you take. You swear someone’s watching you, too, which makes you a little paranoid. You don’t know who it is and if they’re benevolent or malign. And it scares you, not knowing who to trust or who to elude. Being alone like this, without anyone to keep you company or shield you from those who wish you harm... It’s terrifying.

And yet, you press on, determined to get back before Flowey wakes up and panics over your sudden disappearance. You abruptly realize, as your draw closer to the inn--which is but a dark shadow up ahead in the howling wind and swirling snow--that Sans never questioned you about why you decided to attempt suicide. Contentment floods through you, your body relaxing from its stiffened position due to this revelation, and you let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly. You’re glad that he wouldn’t ask you such a personal question, but, at the same time...

Anyway, he’s much more understanding than he lets on. He comforted you when he didn’t have to and wouldn’t pry into your personal space, even though he could’ve tried. Unless... if he’s tried it himself... which would explain why he seemed so troubled in his thoughts... and why he wouldn’t question you about it.

You shake the thought off. Even if he tried, you’re glad that it failed. Otherwise, you’d be nearly completely isolated in this underground hell, with little Flowey being your last bit of hope in this hellish world. You glance up at the now-hidden ceiling of the underground, grinning a little brighter. You finally found someone who cares... even if they refuse to show it. And it makes you happier than you can describe.

You’re not alone anymore.

You have someone who understands, who knows what it’s like.

Just those few sentences...

They fill you with determination... and hope.

Hope that you might one day save these monsters.

Hope that you might be able to get through to them.

Hope that one day... they’ll all learn to love one another and cherish their lives, no matter how difficult life might become.

And maybe... maybe one day... they’ll cherish you in return.

As a friend.

Maybe as a sister.

A savior, perhaps?

Or even... a lover, if that’s even possible.

You shake your head. Such ridiculous thoughts. No one could ever love you in such ways. Except... maybe Flowey. He’s the only one who truly cares about you these days. But now... now you have Sans. The skeleton wouldn’t have saved you if he didn’t care, after all. But... you wonder what might’ve driven Sans into helping you. He’s killed you at least two or three times, so why would he chose to help you now? Was it out of pity? Instinct, maybe? Or just... just to keep you alive so you wouldn’t reset anytime soon? Is that why he was so scared? Frightened of going back to the last save point? Of resetting the day over again just to repeat today’s events once more? Is he afraid of staying in a constant loop of resets where you never reach the end because you’re too terrified and depressed to move on?

Guilt pierces your heart as you ponder over these inquiries. You were about to go back to your previous save point. You were about to reset, regardless if you wanted to move on or not. You’re always going to reset after dying, only to gain another one of these scars. You trace a particularly deep one along your right wrist. Despite them being around the same length--about one and a half or two inches at most--they are never the same depth, meaning that if they’re ever scraped off, whether on purpose or on accident, they will have a variety of effects on your body. Some will simply sting and leave a pink line across your skin, others will well up with droplets of blood, and still others will bleed profusely, depending upon where they are situated. One such scar is the one on your wrist and the others on your inner forearms. They linger over some of your major arteries, which would cause grievous results if scratched off.

Your nail digs in lightly underneath the scab, not enough to peel it off or chip it, but enough to threaten such an action. Maybe this would be a better way to die? It would be so easy to just... scrape it off. Just one swift jerk and your blood will flow. Although... it will be somewhat painful of a death...

No, you tell yourself, frowning deeply and removing your hand from the scars, clutching your sweater sleeve instead. You will not kill yourself. Not after Sans saved you. You will not let his efforts be in vain. Even if he did it to prevent any more resets for the time being, you can’t deny that causing another reset will break your heart and his, knowing that he remembers everything and you caused him to feel worse, having to repeat this over again. You don’t want that. And you sure as hell don’t want to upset Sans like this anymore. He already has enough to worry about as it is.

Eventually, you force yourself to enter the inn once again, relieved that the inside is a little warmer than the blizzard billowing outdoors. Although you’re covered in a light coating of frost, it doesn’t bother you as much as Flowey’s voice calling out your name. You rush up the stairs, ignoring the glare from the innkeeper as she sleepily rubs at her eyes, apparently awoken by the frightened voice of the golden flower.

“Frisk!” Flowey cries out when he sees you burst into the room. “Frisk! You’re okay!” Tears glisten in his dark orbs and stream down his little, pale yellow face. There’s a relieved yet distraught, crooked grin across his face. He reaches out his leaves toward you, unable to go very far because he has little to hold on to on the smooth surface of the nightstand.

You sweep him up into your arms and embrace him gently yet tightly, your own waterworks welling up from your tear ducts. He sobs hysterically and mumbles into your shoulder, his words muffled by the fluffy fabric. Penitence wracks your heart, making your throat tighten and your chest constrict painfully as you listen to him bawl and ramble on about how scared he was he’d lost you and how he thought it was all his fault you left.

You did this to him. Made him so upset over your sudden disappearance. You didn’t even tell him where you were going. You didn’t try to take him with you, either. It’s all your fault he’s crying like this now, wetting your sweater with his tears. Why couldn’t you just stay in your room for the night? Or, at least, take the poor flower with you? He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this.

“I-I’m sorry, Flowey. I shouldn’t--I shouldn’t have left you like that,” you tell him, barely audible, hot droplets of water trickling down your cheeks. Your bottom lip trembles as you struggle not to dissolve into a blubbering mess. It takes everything you have to keep a hold of yourself and you absentmindedly tighten your hug. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” Your voice cracks near the end as you sink to your knees, unable to hold yourself upright anymore. Your emotions are tearing you apart, surging up and forcing their way out onto the surface. You don’t want to fall apart. Not now.

“I-it’s okay, F-Frisk. You... you d-didn’t mean to...” the little flower chokes out. “I-it’s okay now. I--I forgive you.” He offers you a watery smile, trying his hardest to show you that everything’s alright.  _ He’s _ the one trying to comfort  _ you _ , instead of you attempting to console him for his panic attack. It’s not right. What did you do to deserve such a wonderful friend?

“I-I should be ap-pologizing t-to you, F-Flowey,” you stutter, your sorrow threatening to spill out. “I--I’m the o-one who le-left you.”

“No... No. You’re fine. You d-didn’t mean to. You just... just needed s-some time alone. I understand. It’s n-nothing to be ashamed of. S-sometimes, I need to be alone, too. To... to think about all that’s happened. You’ve been through a lot. You and me. It’s okay now, Frisk. You don’t need to blame yourself anymore.” He continues to reassure you while wiping away his own tears.

“W-what did I d-do... to h-have a friend l-like you...?” you choke out, fresh tears flowing down your face. “Y-you’re too good f-for me, Flowey. I--I wish I h-had friends l-like you...” You lower your head, finally allowing the dam to break a little, a steady river of emotions coursing through you.

For the first time since he’s met you, Flowey’s at a loss for words. He knew your previous life on the surface was rough, but he didn’t think you wouldn’t have any friends up there. You sound so... broken... yet so grateful for his companionship that it both lifts his spirits and shatters his heart. Seeing you like this, in a state that’s so different compared to your friendly and serene disposition, made these breakdowns all the more... heartbreaking for the little flower.

At this point, he didn’t know how to respond. So, instead, he soundlessly embraced you in return, rubbing your shoulder and whatever part of your back he could reach in a soothing manner. It seemed that even his limited attempts at comfort helped, considering your sobs have started to fade and your tears were drying up.

“Th-thanks, Flowey,” you mutter, completely exhausted from the emotional breakdown. It’s not often you get to express yourself like this, so openly. Especially in front of another person... or monster. In truth, you’ve never let go of your emotions in front of anyone like this in a long time. Years, even. The last time you did... it didn’t end very well. Since then, you’ve just... bottled everything up, unwilling to open up to or break your façade around anyone.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, reigning in your emotions. You wipe away the remnants of your waterworks and grin lightly at Flowey, who curls his limber stem around your hands, keeping himself stable in your gentle grasp. He smiles back, his mood just a tad bit brighter and your chest just a little bit lighter.

“We should go back to bed. We have a long day ahead of us, after all,” you tell him, your grin having yet to dwindle.

He inclines his head. Then, something seems to bother him. A strange thought, perhaps?

“H-hey, Frisk...?” he inquires timidly as you place him back onto the nightstand, this time, on a random book lying around on the small table. You pause as you settle into bed, turning to face him.

“Yes?” you answer, curious as to what he has to say next.

He hesitates, uncertainty and fear thwarting his voice. He can’t seem to get the words out, even though he knows it needs to be said, now that he’s already spoken.

You encourage him with a soft smile. “It’s alright,” you reassure him. “You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t be angry with you.”

He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and starts once more. “Is it okay if... I mean... Can I...? Um...” He glances up at you gingerly, biting his bottom lip in nervousness. “Can you... be my s-sister?”

You stare at him for several long moments, your heart fluttering at his hesitant inquiry. You? His  _ sister? _ Adopted sister, of course. But...  _ you? _ He’s chosen you, of all people, to be his sibling, but... you don’t know if you’ll be a good sister. You’ve done all you can to save him from as much harm as you could, but... you still failed so many times, especially back at Toriel’s...

“S-sure,” you reply, cursing yourself for stuttering.

“You... don’t sound so certain,” he says sadly, peering up at you with a downtrodden look. “I--I mean... you don’t  _ have _ to...”

“N-no! It’s okay!” you reply quickly, waving your hands in front of you, an apologetic and slightly panicked expression on your face. “It--it’s just... nobody’s ever... asked me that...” You glance away, your hands falling onto your lap and your eyes flicking from the quilt covering your legs to the surprised expression of Flowey.

“R-really?” he asks, bewildered. “B-but you’re so kind a-and understanding and you--you’re amazing!” You blush a bright red at his words, your mind denying them but your heart accepting them, beating just a little faster. “Who  _ wouldn’t _ like you? You’re an awesome person and you’ve already made so many friends! Me, Toriel, maybe even Sans! And Papyrus... since he, well... didn’t kill you yet...” He says the last sentence in a lower voice. “But still! You’ve done nothing but be kind to others and forgive them, no matter how many times they’ve hurt you! You even forgave Toriel, who burned you to ashes over a dozen times!” You flinch slightly at the comment, instantly reminded of your nightmares. “I honestly don’t know anyone as determined and brave as you. After all, you’ve pushed through all this, no matter how hard it got! Sure, you might’ve been sad a few times here and there, but you always moved on and that’s... that’s what I really like about you... You don’t give up so easily.”

You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what happened when I left, you bitterly remark in your mind, unwilling to share the thought out loud to the flower. You know it’d only break his little heart if he knew. But... it’ll hurt more if he finds out without you telling him. You mentally sigh, cursing this predicament of yours. You wish these things were easier to talk about...

“I... I’ll gladly be your sister, Flowey,” you finally tell him smiling lightly. “As long as you don’t mind me calling you my brother.”

He becomes red in the face upon your simple request, but grins joyfully. “Of course, sis!”

The new title makes your heart blossom with warmth and excitement, overjoyed to have a sibling, even if he isn’t in any way related to you. The satisfaction you feel makes you smile radiantly and you respond with, “Good night... brother.”

Despite this being something new for you, especially since it’s with a monster and someone you only met a few days ago, it still cheers you up on the inside, giving you another person to fight for, even if they might betray you in the end. For now, you’ll let yourself remain happy, no matter how short-lived that delight may be.

Tomorrow is another day of pain and sorrow, you tell yourself. At least, this time, I’ll have Flowey at my side. And maybe even Sans...

Tomorrow, we’ll see.

We’ll see if anything changes.

Hopefully, it’ll be for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two weeks since my last update. Not bad.
> 
> Sorry it took so long. I got caught up with some things and couldn't update sooner. Also, I've been reading this awesome fanfiction by joliemariella called Angels in the Underground and, I must say, it is AMAZING! I love her writing and I can't get over how wonderful the character interactions are (especially those between Frisk and Sans, so adorable XD) and how developed each and every one of the characters are. She depicts each character perfectly and I absolutely adore the idea of all the Undertale characters being angels and there being a hierarchy of angels and--
> 
> Sorry, going on a rant there (don't want to spoil too much of it for you). Anyway, you should really check out her story some time. I know a few of you already have ;P
> 
> Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And thanks for all the kudos and the bookmarks! :)


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning comes around pretty quickly in your opinion. And you only managed to sleep for about, what? Five hours? Should be enough for today.

You slip out of bed and pick up a still-sleeping Flowey, who grumbles something under his breath. You stifle a fit of giggles. He’s so cute when he sleeps, especially when he’s muttering something you can’t catch. You just hope he isn’t mocking you in his slumber.

As you leave the inn, you thank the innkeeper for allowing you to stay. She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head, similarly to the other monsters when you did something polite or altruistic to or for them. It’s kind of saddening that these creatures of magic never thought of working together rather than fighting each other for the sake of surviving until the next day, much like you are forced to do here.

You shake your head and continue on, proceeding to shield Flowey from the cold as best as you’re able. He shivers along with you, but less intensely. As long as he’s safe and has a chance to live, you’re more than willing to give your life for him. After all, if he dies and you save right after, you’re never going to get him back. And  _ that _ would break you. Hell, just  _ thinking _ about it makes your heart ache dully.

You shake off the thought, not wanting your focus to be elsewhere when there is an entire world full of monsters waiting to steal your soul at the right moment. Speaking of monsters being hostile, glares and disappointed frowns follow you. Some of them aren’t satisfied. They want your soul.  _ Now _ . And it seems that you surviving this long is gnawing on their nerves.

A library passes by you without you acknowledging it, your gaze lingering over Flowey as he curls up against you, still worn out from the mental and emotional panic he had last night. You’re not surprised. You would’ve remained passed out for far longer if it hadn’t been for the nightmares and the constant reminders that you living means mental and emotional torture for the monsters, considering that you’re the last soul they need to break free of the Underground. You feel guilty for doing this to them. It’s no shock as to why they despise you so much. You’re the one holding them back from their only chance at freedom, after all.

Bright, colorful lights catch your attention and you realize you’re near the end of the town as a large, Christmas-y house looms over you. There are lights of several different colors repeating along the edges of the roof, giving the building a little more festivity. You glance around you and notice there’s a tree further down the road and a few of the monsters were dressed festively. How did you not notice this?

Maybe it's 'cause everyone wants to kill you at every chance they get, your mind bitterly remarks, dampening your mood a little.

Regardless, the town appears just a little more welcoming now that you see how much the monsters value a holiday, even if they're celebrating it daily rather than once a year. That makes sense, however, since it’s always snowing in Snowdin, hence the name.

“Hey, kiddo,” a certain skeleton greets you.

You blink in surprise, seeing him standing near the doorway of the decorated house. He never spoke to you like this before. Hell, even his voice seems lighter and less menacing than before. Is it because of last night...?

“Knock, knock,” he starts.

Though puzzled, you respond, “Who’s there?”

“Flower.” He has a small grin on his face, a little wider than the usual one he sports.

“Flower who?”

“Flower you today, sweetheart?”

You smile lightly and laugh. “Good one,” you reply. “As for your question... I’m fine now.” A pause. You lower your gaze to the snow, a soft grin playing across your lips. “Thanks, Sans...” You glance up at him, staring him straight in the eye sockets. “...for last night.”

He jolts in sudden shock, but covers it up with an uneasy yet genuine smile, a few beads of sweat collecting on his skull. “Heh. You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You notice something’s off and realize that Papyrus is nowhere to be seen. You peer around, confused as to where Papyrus could be. He’s usually around Sans, so he can’t be too far away. Although... you wonder if he still wants to kill you...

“Lookin’ for something?” Sans asks, raising a non-existent eyebrow.

You nod. “Where’s Papyrus? Isn’t he usually with you?”

Sans sighs. “Nah. He’s inside.” The skeleton frowns. “He isn’t the same since yesterday, though.”

“Oh.” You’re a little shocked that he’s locked himself up in the house and that Sans is the one outside, but reason with yourself that he’s probably worn out from yesterday’s battle. “But, he’s okay, right? I--I mean--he should be fine, right? He only wore himself out, so i-it shouldn’t be anything too bad--”

“ _ Why _ do you worry so much,  _ kid? _ ” he interrupts, spitting out the last word as if it were venom in his mouth. The white pinpricks in his eyes are snuffed out, leaving gaping black holes for you to stare into, which unnerve you. However, his abrupt shift in moods frightens you even more. “Why are  _ you _ so concerned about others? Why don’tcha just worry about  _ yourself _ for once, huh?!” His tone become harsh and demanding, making you flinch a little. He sounds just like  _ him _ when he gets frustrated. But... he’s also not telling you everything at the same time. He looks like he wants to say something more, but halts the words before they have the chance to slip past his teeth, lapsing into an irritated and half-hearted hateful gaze. He can’t hate you no matter how hard he might try, and you know that, but it doesn’t stop him from appearing as if he truly does despise you. Sometimes... you don’t even know if he actually hates you or not.

“I--I--” you attempt to answer, but your voice fails you, the words faltering at the tip of your tongue. You don’t know why you’re so altruistic toward everyone you meet. Is it because you don’t want others to go through what you’ve been through? Or do you care too much to see others get hurt because of you or other people or monsters? Or could it be because you believe that even the worst people can become good? That everyone deserves a second chance, no matter how horrible they might be?

“ANSWER ME!”

You flinch at his unusually loud tone, the volume of Sans’ voice jerking Flowey into full wakefulness, the flower screeching in shock. The golden flower wraps himself around your arm, cowering into you as he sees the pissed off expression of the normally laid-back skeleton. You don’t know what’s gotten him so riled up right now. Maybe he’s bottled up his emotions for so long that they’re finally spilling out? Or is he just frustrated with you, after all the things you’ve said and done? You hope it’s the former.

“I...” You trail off, frowning in deep thought and gazing down at the snow beneath your feet. Conflict rises up within you. You don’t know why you do this, but you know it has something to do with your past. Your hands grip your upper arms as dark memories trickle into your mind’s eye, their grasp tightening and your nails digging into your skin. Your hands relax after a few moments as you finally come up with an answer and shove the depressing recallings of your past from your conscience. “I... don’t really... know...” you weakly reply, uncertainty heavy in your voice. “I just... help those who... deserve a second chance...” You peer up at him again, although timidly, as if you’re afraid of how he’ll answer. “E-everyone deserves a second chance. A-after all, we’re all good people... we just... make the wrong choices and judge too soon.” You offer him a hesitant smile.

His expression is one of mild surprise and interest, his ire dispersing as he hears the sincerity in your voice. He frowns a few moments later, as if clashing with himself. His white pinpricks returned as you spoke, but reveal nothing of the war raging within his mind. He’s closed you off, unlike before. Was it because of something you said? Something you did?

You don’t know for sure, but it puts you on edge that you can’t read him anymore. You’ve always been able to tell what someone’s feeling or generally thinking about, so being unable to sense those things by looking at someone makes you feel useless and slightly vulnerable, never knowing if the skeleton can read you as well as you can him.

You brush the thought off, knowing that, if he wants you to know about it, he’ll tell you. If not, he’ll keep it to himself. You just hope he’ll one day be able to open up to you... hopefully before he cracks you out of your shell. You’re not ready to reveal your inner battles to anyone just yet. You need a little more time.

He clears his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Y’know... now that Pa--Boss isn’t waiting at the edge of Snowdin to fight you before you get to Waterfall, you could just head there now and avoid the battle altogether.”

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion, but shake your head. Your actions cause him to gape at you, bewildered and enraged at your response.

“Wh--what?! Why not?!” he exclaims, startled. His arms fling out to the sides in response to his reaction. “Any other human would take this chance and flee into Waterfall before the Boss comes around!”

“I can’t leave,” you simply reply.

“Oh? And why’s that?” He crosses his arms across his chest. You notice that his joy buzzer’s gone. He probably won’t use it again, seeing as you’ve already seen through the trick since the first time you met him. You’re relieved that you won’t have to go through that again.

“I need to.. show him... that expressing emotions... isn’t a bad thing,” you answer quietly.

Everything goes quiet for a few long moments.

Then, Sans bursts out laughing. “ _ Him? _ Showing  _ emotion? _ ” A fit of boisterous cackling interrupts his words, breaking his sentences apart... or, of what little he could say between breaths. “That’s the b-best joke--bwahahahaha!--I’ve ever h-heard!” He holds his sides as he continues to guffaw.

You wait patiently until he finishes, a composed look on your face. You don’t care if he pokes fun at you or outright insults you for your--apparently--absurd claims, you aren’t going to back down until you change the demeanor of every monster you meet, no matter how many times you’ll perish for it. It’s something you’ve figured you should do, considering it’ll keep your flowery brother safe.

Flowey glances up between you and Sans, wondering what’s the punchline, but turns his attention elsewhere not long later. You glance down at him when he touches your hand with a leaf, brushing it against a few of your scars, a depressed expression on his face. He hates it. These scars of yours. It’s obvious these won’t be the last of them. And both of you know it. It’s only a matter of time until the next one carves itself into your skin.

“Everything’ll be fine. You’ll see,” you tell the flower, who peers up at you when you speak. “I’ll be fine.” You muster up a smile, covering up your own sorrows. There’s nothing you can do about them anyway, so why mope over it? It’ll only make it all the more painful.

He returns a weak grin of his own. “Y-yeah... You’re right.” His smile grows stronger as he places more faith in you. If you’re not going to back down because of these stupid cuts, then neither will he.

By this time, Sans has finally regained his composure and wipes away a few crimson tears. Huh. Looks like it’s not only his eyes that are red, but his tears, too. Interesting.

He finally registers the fact that you’re dead-set on changing Papyrus’ ways, even if it means a dozen more deaths for you. And Flowey’s on board with you, the two of you finally beginning to come to terms with your curse. There’s no way to get rid of it anyway, so you’ll just have to deal with it until the end... whichever conclusion it ends up being, that is.

“You’re serious about it, huh, sweetheart?” he says, straightening himself and shoving his boney hands into his jacket pockets. His grin forms into a more solemn one, the skeleton’s aura shifting as he recognizes the familiar look of determination in your dark eyes. “Welp. I’m not gonna stop ya, honey. Just be warned... Papyrus isn’t gonna be an easy opponent. He  _ kills  _ for  _ fun _ .” His eyes fade into pitch-black and his left eye flares up in crimson flames as he speaks, most likely to emphasize his warning. Then, he reverts back to his usual, anxious yet nonchalant self. “Good luck, sweetheart. I’m rootin’ for ya.”

Your puzzled gaze follows him as he disappears into his house, concern for the monster’s mental and emotional health rising at a steady pace. Something’s definitely on his mind, but he’s doing all he can to keep his innermost frustrations from you. You can understand why he’d do that, but you need to get past his barriers. And soon. Before he bursts and does something he’ll regret. He’s already close enough to the edge as it is.

Shaking your head, you walk off to the side, heading toward where Sans said Waterfall should be, but stop once a blizzard starts to pick up. The snow obscures your vision, keeping you from seeing anything more than three feet ahead of you. Your body violently shivers from the cold and you feel Flowey huddle closer to you, trying to retain as much warmth as he’s able in these conditions. You’re surprised neither of you have caught hypothermia from the amount of time you’ve spent out here.

Stepping into the storm, you push on, wondering if you’d run into Papyrus. Sans said he was inside, but he could’ve been lying to you, for all you knew. Or, the taller skeleton could’ve taken the back door or something and stealthily made his way to the edge of town between Snowdin and Waterfall while you and Sans conversed. Either way, it’s possible that he could be out here right now, awaiting your imminent arrival.

An odd feeling bubbles up in your chest and you feel a wave of despair and sorrow wash over you without any reason. Or... at least, without a reason that you could think of at that moment. You didn’t know what caused this. Is it from knowing that you’re about to die soon? Or is it from the knowledge that you’ll never be able to escape this pain growing in your chest? Or this guilt and regret building up in your heart? You don’t know what it is for sure, but the words of a particular song leap unbidden from your lips as you mindlessly sing.

 

“ _ There is a girl _

_ In the front of my class _

_ Who I swear I’ve never seen _

_ Do anything but laugh” _

 

The first verse slips out and, before you know it, the next part follows not far behind, your emotions pouring out with every word and yet, you shed no tears. This is it. This is your breaking point.

 

_ “She’s tall and she’s smart _

_ Beautiful and strong _

_ And when someone’s down _

_ She tries to fix what is wrong” _

 

You’re going to die. In this snowstorm. Fighting the brother of the skeleton who’s done nothing but help you, without even meaning to.

 

_ “How does someone so perfect _

_ Feel so insecure? _

_ As to scar her skin with cuts and burns _

_ And still want to hurt more... _

 

_ “How does someone so loving _

_ Learn to hate her own guts? _

_ Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade _

_ As if her mind isn’t dark enough” _

 

Maybe it’s because all of this reminds you of  _ her _ , your best friend, the one who stuck with you through thick and thin. The one who never failed to cheer you up when you were down. Who never missed a day of class, unlike you. Who was perfect in every way and equaled you out, the loser and loner of the school. Who was always there for you... until her father passed away.

 

_ “There is a girl _

_ In the front of my class _

_ Who’s eyes are glazed over _

_ Like newly cut glass _

 

_ “The ghost of a smile _

_ Hints at her face _

_ And she laughs as they tell her _

_ ‘Who’s on First Base’” _

 

He had died from a heart attack. That’s what she told you. And, not long after, her brother, who was the closest to their father, took his own life. She was devastated after that and it hurt you to see her that way more than you could ever describe. It hurt both of you... because he was like a father to you.

 

_ “How does someone so perfect _

_ Feel so insecure? _

_ As to scar her skin with cuts and burns _

_ And still want to hurt more... _

 

_ How does someone so loving _

_ Learn to hate her own guts? _

_ Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade _

_ As if her mind isn’t dark enough” _

 

She was never the same after that. And neither were you. She never told you where she went all those years ago, or why, but she never left you alone in this world. You know that because she’d still call you from time to time, or text if either of you weren’t up for verbal communication.

You, however, turned to the blade. But even that didn’t last long.

 

_ “For her imperfections...” _

 

She brought you back from your depression, driving all the way from wherever she went--which was a four hour drive from where you were--and convinced you not to abandon her. Now that you ponder over it, you could’ve never deserted her like that, even if you truly wanted to. She was the only one who cared for you during those days. You remember it was three in the morning that night when she stopped you. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be here right now. And maybe... maybe that would’ve been for the better.

But, of course... all good things come to an end, as all things must eventually.

 

_ “There is a girl _

_ In the front of my class _

_ Who yesterday took _

_ The breath that was her last... _

 

_ She wrote a few notes: _

_ I’m sorry I didn’t say _

_ But my mind was messed up _

_ You couldn’t save me anyway... _

 

_ And to the girl in the back of the class _

_ Who feels the same way I did...” _

 

She followed her brother, three years after his death, using the same path he did to kill herself. And, to make matters worse, you were the one who found her only moments after her passing. If only you were there just seconds earlier... she’d still be here, laughing and exchanging puns with you, just like she used to. If only... If only...

 

_ “How does someone so perfect _

_ Feel so insecure? _

_ As to scar her skin with cuts and burns _

_ And still want to hurt more...” _

 

It shattered your world. The moment she left you behind in this cruel world, you knew you had nothing left to lose. So, you tried to follow her.

But you failed.

And now, you’re here...

...with a new reason to survive... just a little longer.

And you’re not about to let a bloodthirsty skeleton stop you from your goal. You’ll show them that there’s still something left for them. That there’s still hope for all of them... as long as they believe that everything will get better. Even if there’s nothing left for you to hold on to in the end.

As the song ends, you realize that you’ve wandered further than you thought you would, your voice clear and loud, despite the howling wind. It isn’t until you elongate the last few letters of the song that you register Papyrus looming over you, less than two yards away.

You’ve arrived.

And it’s up to you whether you’ll survive this...

...or suffer another painful demise by the hands of another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> This chapter didn't take as long as I thought it would to post, which is a good thing! :) Although, the next month and a half are going to be tough, so please don't expect as many updates for a while. Thanks for the 29 kudos and the 3 bookmarks! (I'm surprised I've gotten so many hits, too...)
> 
> Anyway, I would like to ask if there's anything you believe I should fix, other than grammar and spelling, which haven't been much of a problem since the beginning. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something in my story, so some criticism will help me with improving my writing. So, if you have anything to suggest, please let me know via comments.
> 
> Thanks for your support and patience! :)
> 
> P.S.- the song used is called "Dark Enough" by Amanda Lopiccolo


	8. Chapter 8

You and Papyrus face off, silently observing one another. You shift uneasily beneath his gaze, yet your eyes refuse to tear away from his intense, hostile glare. He’s observing you, scanning his crimson eyes over your smaller form, tracing each scar his eyes can catch--which isn’t very many of them, considering your sweater covers up the majority of your “reminders” and the scars on your legs are heavily spread out, giving off the impression there are less of them than there really are.

You bite your bottom lip nervously, wondering if he’ll attack you or stare you down to death. You hope it’s the latter. You’d rather risk freezing to death than getting stabbed through the chest by flying bones. It’d be less painful that way, even if it  _ would _ take a little while longer to take effect on your already weakened body...

Finally, you can’t look at him in the eyes anymore, so your attention drops to the ground, your head lowering as you do.

That’s all he needed to attack you.

The bones whistle through the air, their approach much louder than it should be in the deathly-still silence surrounding you.

Your grip tightens around Flowey as you quickly duck, the bone sailing over your head. You barely have enough time to jump away from the next two, rolling sideways as you leap for safety. You get back up, brushing off some of the snow and briefly checking over Flowey to see if he’s alright.

_ Whoosh! _

Your sixth sense acts up again and you lean back, just far enough for the bone to brush past your nose, nicking it a little. The tiny cut stings more than it should, but the cold numbs it before it can distract you too much. A bit of blood trickles down over your lips, but you disregard it, knowing that if you react a second too late, you’ll end up dead.

Another bone, this one lower than the other nearly nails you in the head as you start to lean forward from the back-bending position. Luckily, your legs gave out from the strain of leaning your body back so far and you fall. Your back hits the ground and, not a moment later, a piercing pain shoots through your chest, making you scream in agony. A bone had sliced straight through you, coated in your blood, slick to the touch and truly traumatizing to look at.

You turn your attention to Flowey, who’s thankfully unscathed. You cough a little as blood fills your lungs, struggling to breathe. Your eyes catch sight of the bones poised over you, prepared to strike.

You meet Flowey’s eyes one last time before the bones hit.

And smile.

“I... I l-love you... br-brother...”

Your soul disintegrates.

 

You wake up with a gasp, sitting up straight. You’re back at the inn. In bed. Next to Flowey, who’s sitting on the desk silently. Your hand presses itself against your chest, the area still lingering with the phantom sting of the fatal wound from the last run. Even though you know there’s nothing there, it still perturbs you that, only seconds ago, you had died... again. You’ll never get used to this.

You sigh. There’s no escape from death down here, even though that’s all you’ve wanted for the past what? Seven, eight years? You shake your head. You don’t even know yourself. It feels like it’s always been there... the dark cloud hanging over your mind, even if you  _ do _ have someone to live for. It just... never seems to go away.

That’s when you register the familiar burning sensation of a new scar. This one’s across your right eye, making it difficult to open said eye because of the stabbing pain. You brush your fingertips lightly over the rough texture of the scar, but stop and wince when it flares up with white-hot pain. Looks like some areas are much more sensitive than others...

Flowey stares, open-mouthed, at your new wound. Panic flickers in his eyes, his heart palpitating. Oh, god. “Y-your eye...” His voice broke as he barely managed to choke out the words. “I--I... I...” He tries to say something, but the words die down in his throat, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. His body trembles as he struggles not to cry. “I...” He tries once more. Another failure.

You don’t speak, don’t think. You just act. Your arms pick him up and you hold him in front of you, lifting him up to eye level. Your single open eye gleams with sorrow but also determination. You aren’t going to give up just yet. It doesn’t matter if you lose one eye or both, you still won’t give up. It’s all you have left in this world that won’t let you die. And it’s Flowey’s only chance to finally be free of this hellhole... and the rest of the monsters, if you can manage it. Even if the world above won’t accept you, you won’t let this world do the same. For your little brother, at least. You don’t care if they hate you. But... if they  _ dare _ harm little Flowey, then they’ll forever regret ever laying a single finger on him.

Flowey notices your resolve and relaxes. Frisk won’t blame me for anything. They wouldn’t blame anyone for something that no one has any control over. And he was pretty sure you weren’t going to let him beat himself up over it, either. He lets out a sigh and mumbles an apology. He knows you know what he was thinking, even if he might not be able to read you as well as you can him. No matter how hard he might try, he could never tell what you were or are thinking. You were simply... unreadable to him.

You smile a little, this grin slightly more genuine than the previous several. At least he isn’t blaming himself anymore, you think with a mental sigh. You didn’t need him to pressure himself into doing something that could get him killed and lost forever with an accidental save on your part. You just hoped that such a thing wouldn’t happen, not if you could help it. It was stressful enough to refrain from dying all the time and you didn’t need Flowey sacrificing himself for you anytime soon, lest something happens before you manage to reset.

You place Flowey on your shoulder this time around, figuring it’d be safer than holding him, and it wouldn’t limit the use of your arms but it  _ would _ place Flowey in a much more vulnerable spot, since you can’t protect him as easily if anything were to attack from behind.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long before you coax yourself out of bed, your determination wavering slightly as you wonder how many more times you’ll have to go through this before you manage to break through to Papyrus. You know that he’ll attack almost instantly, so you’ll have to keep a vigilant eye out for any surprise attacks and avoid checking over your little brother all the time.

You manage to open your right eye by the time you reach Papyrus, the cold numbing the sharp pain still hovering over your eye. He tries to stare you down again but realizes you won’t fall for it, so he attacks. The first several are already known to you, thanks to the previous run, so it wasn’t too difficult to dodge them. But you notice something’s... off.

It isn’t Papyrus...

It’s not Flowey...

That’s when it hits you.

Your vision. On the right side, everything seems to have a slight blur to it, as if it’s never completely focused but enough for you to make out most of the details. You don’t have much time to ponder over the reason for this due to the upcoming attacks from Papyrus. You just barely manage to dodge a bone striking up out of the ground, the blow slightly tearing your sweater.

Suddenly, your foot slips up on a patch of slick snow, your body tilting backwards as the momentum pulls you down. Your eyes widen in horror. No! Not aga--

Agony pulses through you.

Then, nothing.

Your soul shatters.

 

You groggily open your eyes to the sight of a very familiar ceiling. Oh. Right. You died. Yet again. There’s a ghost of the pain persisting through your ribcage in several places and the back of your head, as well as the sharp agony of a new scar on the back of your left leg, near the middle of your thigh. But, even that pain... is growing dull.

Flowey calls your name, but you barely hear him.

How many times have you died? How long has it been since you’ve fallen down? How long has it been since you’ve last seen Toriel?

A sudden pang of sorrow hits you like a brick to the chest. Toriel...

You promised her you’d visit someday but... that “someday” seemed to never come around. That “someday” might never happen, for all you know. And you’ll never get to see that child-murdering bloody goat mom again. Sure, she might’ve killed you several dozen times or so, but with good intentions. She knew this would happen and she wanted to protect you from it. She was the closest thing you had to a mother since... well, forever... and now...

Now...

You don’t know if you’ll ever see her again...

Well... you  _ did _ make her promise to see you before you reached the very end of your journey, so... she  _ might _ be there to see you one last time before you face whoever you’re supposed to go up against in the end. Flowey never told you who it was and you never really asked, since he seemed so bothered by it.

The sadness that tightens your throat and crushes your lungs increases when you think about how nice she was to you. How she cared for you and gave you pie--as long as you didn’t ask how to get out of the ruins, of course. Oh, how you longed to see her again, to have her hug you like she did before she let you go. She was so warm and soft...

“Frisk!” Flowey’s voice pierces through your thoughts.

You groan in response and turn your back to him. You don’t want to get up. You just want to go back to Toriel. You don’t care what happens to you or the Underground anymore. You just want to go back to your mother, even if she  _ is _ a monster... and a murderous goat, no less.

“Frisk, please,” Flowey says, pleading to you at this point. “We  _ have _ to keep moving.”

You don’t answer. You only stare at the wall across from you, thinking back to all you’ve been through. You’ve died so many times you can’t recall even  _ half _ of them anymore. Your hands trace the scars, just as you had done before you went to sleep every night, tears beginning to cloud your vision. The hot droplets of saltwater trickled down your face, only to be absorbed into the pillowcase that crinkled under the weight of your head.

Why was fate so cruel to you?

“Frisk...?”

No answer.

“F-Frisk...? A-are you... Are y-you okay?”

He’s scared. His voice trembles. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help you, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know what’s bothering you... because you won’t talk to him.

Still, you don’t reply, slowly drowning in your oppressive thoughts.

If you go out there, you’ll die. If you stay here, you’ll die. If you don’t move on, you’ll be stuck. If you don’t keep moving, you’ll keep going in circles, never able to progress. Any way you look at it, you’re always going to end up dead, no matter what you do. And, to make matters worse, you don’t have anyone who can help you and protect you. You have Flowey, but there’s only so much he can do.

You sigh and roll over, facing the golden flower now.

He’s starting to shed tears, panic and uncertainty gleaming in his dark orbs as his eyes dart all over your face, trying to get some sort of message from your passive expression. Nothing. No emotion. No hints of what you might be feeling. Just... nothing.

His heart weighs heavier. He can’t read you. He can’t help you.

“I really am useless... aren’t I...?” he mutters to himself, head dropping as the waterworks finally spill, staining the surface of the desk.

You hear his words but don’t comment on them. You only drop your gaze to the floor, your eyes scanning every little detail you can see. Why can’t this be easier? Why can’t everyone just be a little friendlier for a change?

You exhale heavily, getting up as you do. Moping around won’t change anything. The only choice you have now is to keep going. It’s all you  _ can _ do.

The walk through Snowdin is spent in silence, your head low and your expression blank, your eyes dull. Flowey doesn’t look up at all. You’re losing hope. He’s losing hope. Both of you are slowly withering away, plagued by the pain of prior deaths and a dense blanket of hopelessness.

Your feet stop just as you reach the mailboxes standing proud and tall next to the skeleton brothers’ house. Sans isn’t there. It’s been at least an hour and a half since the usual time you’d pass by. Has he given up on waiting for you? Has he given up on  _ you? _

Maybe...

Maybe not...

Nevertheless, you move on, your body moving on its own, mechanically and forced, as if you weren’t the one in control. You pass through the harsh blizzard without the slightest flinch against the cold, your eyes dead and unfocused.

How much longer...?

Something appears further ahead.

How much longer will I have to endure this?

You raise your head finally, eyes settling upon the dark shape up ahead.

How much longer will this torture last?

Finally, you make it to where Papyrus stands, still awaiting your arrival. He doesn’t spare you much of a staredown, seeing as you won’t look up at him. Instead, he immediately attacks.

Despite feeling so devoid of motivation, your body acts on instinct, something snapping awake within the deepest recesses of your mind. You don’t want to die. Not yet, at least. Although your dodging skills are sloppy, you manage to easily avoid the first few bones. Only a few tears here and there appear in your sweater, but nothing too damaging.

As you move to sidestep an approaching bone, something red surrounds Flowey and yanks him from your grip.

“No!”

The forceful removal of your brother sends a jolt through you, your nerves tingling as your instincts act up. You reach out a hand, as if to grab your little brother as the magic hurls the poor flower at a nearby tree, his fragile body colliding roughly with the bark and both his petals and leaves tearing slightly from the jagged surface. That’s all the distraction Papyrus needs to launch a bone at you from above, hitting you in the right leg.

You scream in agony, the white-hot pain and loud crunching of a bone shattering flooding your senses. You continue to moan and writhe in anguish as you struggle to yank out the large bone, your hands slipping on the blood-slicked surface of said bone. You pant from the exertion and eventually slump in defeat, quickly realizing that there’s no way in hell you’re strong enough to pull out the bone in such a weakened state, especially since it’s in a place that’s hard to reach when you’re lying on your stomach and pinned to the snow-bound earth.

Another bone sinks into your other leg, eliciting yet another cry of anguish from you, your body shivering feverishly from the pain and the intense cold. Your breaths come out short and forced as you mentally remind yourself to breathe through the agony that clouds your mind. It’s all you can feel at this point.

“F-Flowey...” you feebly mutter, reaching out weakly toward the golden flower slumped at the base of the tree. Please don’t be dead. Oh, god. Please don’t be dead!

There’s a burst of searing agony when something large and white slices through your left hand, the one you used to reach out to your brother with, and see yet another bone pinning you down. Not long later, a fourth follows, ripping through the back of your right shoulder blade and piercing your lung. Blood spurts past your lips as you cough, your chest rising and falling sporadically. It’s so hard to breathe... It hurts so fuckin’ much...

Your expression twists in anguish, your eyes screwing shut and your forehead hitting the snow beneath you. You force yourself to keep breathing, even as you feel yourself slipping away, blood streaming freely from your wounds, your mouth, your nose. Why couldn’t you have just died the first time and never come back?

Throughout the whole ordeal, you sensed someone watching you. Actually, not just this time, but every fight you’ve had with Papyrus. Your eyes wander to the source of the observing pair of eyes and spot a familiar figure standing a little ways away, hidden slightly among some of the trees bordering either side of the path.

Your eyes narrow dangerously, ire and hatred welling up in the pit of your stomach, burning brightly, the pain fading away with the rising emotions.

You fuckin’ asshole...

Then, everything plummets into oblivion.

Your soul cracks, bursting into hundreds of pieces.

 

You’re back.

And you’re absolutely  _ livid _ .

“I can’t believe it! That jerk!” you growl lowly, dangerously. You leap out of the bed and start pacing, your arms flailing around as you allow yourself to fully express your fury. “He just stands there and  _ watches! _ He won’t even help us! And all we’ve done is be nice to everyone! We try to help him and he... he just...” Your words fade away, your voice cracking. “He just...”

Your knees hit the floor with a loud thump and your hands brace themselves on the ground, your head bowed. “That... fuckin’ asshole,” your weak voice chokes out. You can’t continue as sobs rack your body, your form shaking with the effort. “It’s t-too much...” Your forehead hits the floor with a soft thump and your body follows, flopping onto your side and curling up into a tight ball, tears dampening the hardwood floor. You don’t care where you’re lying down, you just want to wallow in your sorrow for a little while. At least... until you can get the will to move again.

“Th-this... this is h-how... he r-repays us...?” Your voice raises an octave higher when you speak, your emotions getting the best of you. Your breaths, ragged and short, turn into painful gasps as you start to hyperventilate, your mind swarmed with doubts and ‘what if’s. What if I can never get out of here? What if I can’t survive long enough to pass Papyrus? What if I end up dying so many times these scars overwhelm my body and kill me? What if--

“Frisk!”

Your breath hitches, nearly making your heart stop. That voice. You know that voice.

Your breathing slowly tones down, your heart and mind stilling. Who is it again...?

Oh, right. Flowey.

“S-sorry,” you apologize, sitting back up and massaging your head a little as a small migraine acts up. Your chest kinda hurts, too... You notice there’s a sharp sting along the back of your neck. Another scar, running right along the hairline of the back of your neck.

You sigh, calming your whirling thoughts. Sans watched you die. For the past two or three deaths, he’s watched you perish by the hands of his brother. While you don’t blame him for being curious, the thing that pisses you off the most is that he  _ lets _ it happen. He won’t fight for you, even if you’ve done nothing but be kind to him and worry over his brother, never caring how many times you’d die before you’d get through to them.

But now...

You don’t know how long you’ll last. It’s been the same day, over and over, constantly repeating. You don’t know why Sans stopped you when you tried to kill yourself but won’t stop your deaths now. Does he just want you to suffer? Or is suicide too personal for him to see you take that path?

Letting out a frustrated huff, you grab Flowey and depart, determined to get through Papyrus without ever killing him. Murder only causes the cycle of hatred to go round. And you’re going to be the one to break it, even if these scars cover every inch of your body.

Flowey doesn’t speak, relieved that you haven’t given up yet. He snuggles against you, comforting you as much as he’s able in this small form. He secretly wished he could be in his other form, just for the sake of comforting you. But you didn’t seem to mind his lack of a proper body or his limited attempts to soothe your frustrations and pains. With a soft sigh, he lets himself drift into oblivion, completely content in your arms.

You glance down at Flowey with a soft expression, a light smile hovering over your lips as he falls asleep. A blossom of warmth blooms in your chest. Without Flowey, you would’ve given up long ago. Without him, you would’ve died more times than this. Without him, you would’ve lost all hope of getting back to the surface. It’s all thanks to this strange, talking flower that you’ve gotten this far, even with so many deaths to keep count of. You silently thank him, holding him closer to yourself.

“I owe you my life,” you whisper to him. Thankfully, he’s gone too far to hear you, or else he’d start denying it and arguing that he isn’t that helpful and special and whatnot. Sometimes you’re glad that the flower falls asleep so quickly.

You continue through the town, content with your life. You at least have  _ one _ monster who truly cares about you. The stares that follow you are more ones of curiosity and befuddlement upon your sudden cheerfulness, the smile on your lips yet to waver as you greet a few monsters here and there. You have a feeling that this time, you won’t be alone.

The rabbit and the dog from before stare, but the sight of them makes you pause. Maybe you can help them in some way? They  _ do _ seem to be doing much better, just like every other run, but you don’t want them to stay as  _ just _ acquaintances. If you can’t get through to the skeleton brothers, then maybe you can get through to the large, armored, white dog and talking rabbit. So, you approach them, smiling warmly.

“How are you today?” you ask them, your body relaxed and posing no threat. They could kill you regardless if you bear any threat toward them or not, considering they’re quite vicious as always.

The dog tilts its head in confusion but the rabbit responds, both of them surprised that you’d ask them about how they were feeling rather than pick a fight like all the other monsters did.

“I... We’re fine...” His voice is awkward, as if he doesn’t know how to reply at first. “And... um... I, uh...” You wait patiently, nodding for him to continue. He starts blushing a deep red as the next words leave his lips. “Th-thanks. F-for yesterday...” Looks like showing gratitude is rare these days, not that it surprises you or anything.

“You’re welcome. If you’re in any trouble--either of you--and you need help, just call for me, okay? I’d be more than happy to help,” you tell them.

The dog tilts its head again, confused, as if asking, “Me, too?”

“Yes, even you,” you confirm, grinning up at the dog.

The armored pup leans closer to you and sniffs you, drinking in your scent. Then, a wet, sandpaper tongue drags itself along your cheek, causing you to flinch from how rough it is against the slightly-sensitive scars on your face, but giggle anyway. It tickled against your skin.

“He likes ya,” the rabbit says, astonishment clear in his voice.

The dog barks in response, tail wagging. He seems to have warmed up to you.

“His name’s Greater Dog. Call ‘im GD, though.”

“Oh. Well... It’s nice to meet you two,” you tell them.

“Erm... You, too?” The uncertainty in the rabbit’s voice makes you giggle, amused by his cluelessness in polite conversations.

“I’m Frisk. You are...?” You extend your hand to him.

He stares at your outstretched limb, stiffening a bit. He’s checking for any signs of aggression or any indication of danger. When he finds none, he relaxes and grasps your own hand, shaking it. “I’m Rabbit Kid, but call me RK.”

Your hands fall to your sides and the two of you stand there, awkwardly shuffling your feet, not knowing what to say. A few, long moments of uneasy silence drag by. Your gaze snaps back up from the snow when RK chuckles nervously.

“Never knew I could be acquaintances with a human,” he comments, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Heh. Never knew I’d be friends with a talking rabbit,” you remark, smiling softly.

He jolts in shock. “‘F-friends’?!” he echoes, bewildered.

“Yeah. Why not?” The idea doesn’t seem bad to you, since you’re going to be here a while regardless, so why not attempt to make friends and potential allies?

“W-well--um--that’s--uh... u-um...” He stumbles, trying to come up with something but fails. “I-it’s just th-that... u-um... I h-haven’t exactly... h-had a h-human a-as a... friend...”

“Then I’ll be your first human friend,” you reply. “There’s a first for everything, after all.”

He stares at you, surprised. “U-um. Y-yeah... Right...” He lets out a nervous laugh. “You’re right. N-nice to know ya aren’t like the other humans. They... they weren’t as, uh... kind as... well, you.”

“Oh. Well, um...” You don’t really know how to respond.

Suddenly, GD nudges you. He’s trying to get your attention. He nuzzles your hand and you start to pet him, his body hunched over so that you can scratch him behind the ears. His head tilts to the side, his mouth open as he pants and closes his eyes in satisfaction.

You grin warmly, content with your new allies. Why hadn’t you done this before?

Then, your mind wanders back to what you were supposed to do before. What you came out here for. You stop petting GD and he whines longingly. “Sorry, GD. I’ve got something to do first,” you tell them.

“Oh,” RK says. “Well... Come back soon, ‘kay?”

“I can’t promise anything, but... I’ll try.” It’s true. You don’t know if you’ll come back alive. If you’re going to fight Papyrus, you’re gonna have to save your progress at some point. “Well... erm... See ya.” Although your farewell is somewhat awkward, the rabbit waves you goodbye and GD whines, clearly upset that you’re leaving.

You quickly make your way back up to the inn to save your progress before you face Papyrus again. Your hand touches the shining star and a pleasant warmth flows through you, replenishing you and numbing the pain from the irritated scars on your face. Even if it can’t completely heal your ever-present cuts, it still soothes the dull ache they emit when irritated.

You sigh and start back down through Snowdin, striding confidently toward the blizzard up ahead. You feel better that you’ve finally gained a few friends, even if it  _ is _ only two out of many. The only thing that matters is that they’ll be there when you need them.

A lingering smile graces your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's yet another chapter for you guys! Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks! It's a pleasure to know that you guys are truly enjoying my work. Thanks for being so patient, too. I know how hard it might be to wait for another chapter to be posted. And... well... sorry it took so long. I thought I could get it up sooner, but a lot of stuff got in the way, so...
> 
> Anyway! Thanks for all your support! XD


	9. Author's Note (not a chapter, but just as important)

I'm so sorry I haven't been updating lately. It's been difficult trying to finish up everything at school before my family and I left for a week-long vacation for the last week of school. Not only that, but I've been pondering over something for the past two or three months.

I've been thinking about re-writing this story (cue chaos and angry commenters).

Don't worry! It's not as bad as it might seem! Everything will remain relatively the same but there _might_ be a change in perspective to third person so that other characters' thoughts are incorporated better into the story. Also, thanks to the help from a good friend of mine, they helped me find some small (but still quite impactful) errors in my story and pointed out that I unintentionally made Frisk into a female character when they're supposed to be a neutral gender (i'm so sorry!). As I've been re-reading my own chapters, I realized just how little I knew of the Underfell world and figured that maybe a re-write would help me better incorporate a stronger sense of the world of Scarfell (the name of my AU).

I know that this is quite a bit of information to take in at once and that this change is so sudden, but I want to know what you guys think. Please let me know in the comments! (please don't kill me!)

On a better note, thank you for all your support! You're such wonderful people and I'm so glad my very first story has gone so well!

Sincerely, Drifter.

 

P.S. - If I  _do_ re-write my story, should I keep the original up or remove it?

UPDATE: (this is sooo long overdue! I'm sorry!) Here's the link to my rewrite! (if you haven't already read it)  
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11464230/chapters/25702629  
(better late than never, right? eheheh...)

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT own any of the characters or Underfell, only the AU idea. Anything else, unless stated otherwise, is not mine.


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